colourful souls
by 10-phoenix-feathers
Summary: "Hello. My name is Death. You may have heard of me. I saw Ginny Weasley three times." Souls are colourful, and Death can't stand disobeying the rules. Ginny starts to wonder if the rules even matter. There are cloaks and Hallows and tall glasses of butterbeer. HP/GW.
1. prologue

**Blanket Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and the rest of the Potterverse does not belong to me in any way, shape, or form.  
 **Blanket Trigger Warning:** death, undiagnosed mental illnesses.

* * *

Hello, my name is Death.

You may have heard of me.

Some people know me by 'Grim Reaper', of course, but I much prefer Death. It has a much nicer ring to it.

I'm here to tell you a story.

This story is about a girl called Ginevra Weasley. She was a colourful girl – red comes immediately to mind, as does green. Green eyes and deep, deep red hair.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Please do excuse me.

Ginevra Weasley saw me three times.

/

The first time was when Ginevra was very little, but six, I would imagine. It was a party. Humans love the things, particularly Ginevra's family. Their house was clean and all the family was invited.

When I arrive for Elanor Weasley, I am too early.

It happens occasionally.

I greatly dislike it when I am early, because then, you see, I have to wait. I have to watch as the last breath leaves the body. As healers are called for, and as children start to cry. And then the soul relaxes. And I pry it from the body, and disappear hurriedly.

Ginevra Weasley was sitting on her grandmother's lap in a chair apart from the rest of the festivities. The rest of the guests were under the pavilion, laughing and probably drinking too much butterbeer. Elanor was telling Ginevra a story, still very much alive.

I lean in closer.

"It was a hard time," Elanor says, quite softly to Ginevra.

"Why, Grandmama?"

"Because, my child, bad things happen. Terrible, terrible things happen. Your grandfather – "

Her breathing becomes husky. I prepare myself.

"Grandmama, are you okay?" Ginevra slides off Elanor's lap in concern.

Elanor seizes her grandaughter's hands, clutching them tightly. "My child. My heart."

Her hands shake in Ginevra's, and she clasps them – "Grandma! What hurts?"

"Harry Potter. He saved us all. Death, Ginny – death is coming –"

The gnarled hands relax.

Ginevra screams. People come running. Healers are called for.

In the middle of the chaos, I step in and gently pull the old soul from its body. It is warm in my arms.

I carry it away, leaving the Weasleys behind me.

At the last moment, I turn. I cannot help it. Sometimes I wish I had not.

Ginevra is looking straight at me, staring into me, piercing me with her brown eyes.

I close my eyes and disappear.

That look will haunt me for years and years to come.

/

The darkness slivers and hisses out of the snake.

A girl lies on the tile floor, her fierce hair spread around her like blood.

Darkness hisses, loud and quiet in the same moment.

It hovers over the girl –

And slithers in.

 _At home at last._

* * *

 _If you didn't notice already, this story is slightly inspired by The Book Thief, a marvellous_ _book_ _/movie which I cannot recommend enough. I hope you enjoyed the first snippet!_


	2. 1 - chasing dreams

Ginny Weasley was not what one would necessarily call a sensible girl. That being said, she knew better than to harp on the fact that she had just seen Death himself. After mentioning it once, and being disregarded as 'in shock', she decided to keep it to herself.

And so the years went on. By the start of Ginny's fifth year at Hogwarts, she had - almost – managed to convince herself that it was all a dream. She hadn't _really_ seen Death – that was ridiculous! How could anyone _see_ Death? Death was something that happened, not someone you saw.

Besides, Ginny had something else to worry about, something far more important – her returned and very confusing butterflies that always appeared whenever Harry Potter was present.

And then Ginny was made seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, while Harry was in detention with Snape.

She wasn't ever quite sure how it had happened – but there you have it.

As Ginny walked onto the pitch, she forced the butterflies down with a deep effort.

She was going to win.

/

Ginny reached. She bent over the broom, and reached with every inch of her might … she stretched out a hand, and snatched a golden, glittering ball…

It was in her hand!

She yelled in victory, and the entire stadium whooped with joy. The Ravenclaw seeker yelled curses at her, but Ginny grinned, her entire being sailing through the skies with joy. She was quite sure that she could fly without a broom.

She glided to the ground, and joined the throng. Ron was rubbing her head, Katy was dancing up and down, the Beaters were yelling. The team was pushed by the crowd, and Ginny found herself in the Gryffindor Common Room.

The Room was transformed. Red and gold decorations adorned the walls, and food and bottles of butterbeer were scattered on all the tables. There was more yelling, more wild singing. Ginny had to explain over and over again how it had happened, how she had snatched the snitch away from right underneath the Ravenclaw seeker's nose …

And then all went quiet.

Ginny looked round. Harry Potter, with a curious expression on his face, was climbing through the portrait hole.

He stood, staring. Then, "Well?"

"We won!" yelled someone. There was a great cheer, and Harry's face lit up like _lumos_.

Ginny cheered with the rest, the surging crowd pushing Harry forward to join the team. Ron rubbed Harry on the head, a wild eyed Hermione gave him a fierce hug, and Ginny …

(She wasn't ever quite sure how it happened.)

They were kissing.

She was kissing. Harry. _Potter_.

Somewhere outside Ginny's perfect bubble, the room had gone very quiet.

Harry pulled away first, and looked over his shoulder. Some of Ginny's brain began to return – she had just kissed Harry! Did he like her? What did it mean? – she realised that everyone was looking at them.

Harry looked back at her, and his face lit up again with a wide, wide smile. She smiled back, her body filled with happiness. She was quite sure she would burst any moment. Harry took her hand, and led her out of the Common Room.

She heard Hermione's squeal as the portrait closed behind them.

/

 **A side note**

It is a little known fact that humans have yet to burst from happiness.

Now don't let me burst your bubble. This is just a fact.

But let me say something right now – Ginny Weasley came very, very close.

/

They were together now. They had talked about it – a little, anyway – and it was official.

As they wandered back to the Common Room at ten to nine that night, Ginny received several snide remarks from Slytherins, a congratulations from Luna and three other Ravenclaws whom she had never met, and a warning from Professor Trelawney that she was submitting herself to a lifetime of heartache.

Ginny somehow pushed her way through the congratulations from her friends and Hermione in the common room, gave Harry a goodnight kiss on the cheek, and virtually flew up to her dormitory.

Ginny curled up in bed and went straight to sleep, dreaming delicious dreams about Quidditch and valentines and moonlit balconies.

/

"Good morning," said Harry, sliding into place next to Ginny.

Ginny smiled back, her heart still bursting with joy from the previous night. "Morning, how did you sleep?"

"Good thanks," said Harry, smiling widely. "Could be worse."

"As always," said Ginny.

"Exactly."

They kissed. Hermione, who was spreading her toast, gave a great sigh. Ron said, quite loudly, "How are you getting on with OWL studies, Ginny?"

Ginny pulled away and gave an uncharacteristic giggle. "Fine, Ron."

Ron shook his head. Hermione gave an understanding smile, before turning to her newspaper.

Ginny looked at Harry, who was now happily tucking into his eggs (his hand comfortably close to hers), and felt something flash at the corners of her brain. Memories of Chambers, of writing in blood, of cloaked eyes above her grandmother's head -

She shook her head rapidly, forcing herself to forget, to relax. She would not let her memories ruin her time with Harry.

It would be fine.

"You okay, Gin?" Hermione was staring at her, paused above her newspaper.

Ginny smiled, feeling her happiness build up inside her again.

"I'm great, thanks Hermione."

Harry smiled at her, and Ginny wondered if she'd ever been happier.

/

Ginny was curled up next to Harry on a couch in the Gryffindor Common Room, a week after.

It was quiet in there; most of the students had gone to bed, in anticipation of a Hogsmeade weekend the next day.

Ginny was holding Harry's hand, and he was making small circles on her shoulder with his fingertips.

"We should probably sleep," he said. "It's nearly one."

"Just a little longer," said Ginny, snuggling into Harry's shoulder.

"Tell me a story, then."

"A story? What sort of story?"

"Any story. What sort of stories do Wizards tell? Fairy Tales, I mean."

"Fairy Tales?"

"Like Cinderella, and Snow White, and things like that. Folk stories. Tales."

"Why don't you tell _me_ a tale? I'm an awful storyteller."

"You're great at writing. And I don't really know any muggle fairy tales well enough to tell you. The Dursleys didn't really tell me many."

"Never mind then," said Ginny, squeezing Harry's hand. "I'll tell you my least favourite story."

"Why?"

"Because it's the only one I really remember." Ginny took a deep breath, and ploughed in. "Once there were three brothers, and they were walking along at twilight, and they met Death on a bridge."

"How can you meet Death?"

Ginny hesitated. "I'm not sure. I think it does happen though, sometimes."

"How would you know?"

"Never mind that, I'm trying to tell a story here!"

"Right, sorry."

Ginny shook her head briskly, trying to forget those awful memories of a confused six year old that she was working on deleting. "Death gave them all a wish, or something like that. The oldest brother wished for the most powerful wand in the world. Death gave it to him, and he used it to become the most powerful wizard in the world, until the time came when Death arrived to collect his soul. He tried to fight Death, but you can't fight Death, even with the most powerful wand in the world. So he died."

"Morbid."

"Shush. The second brother wished for way to bring dead people back to life."

"Not creepy at all."

"You really don't notice these things when you're little. Anyway, the second brother used it to bring his wife back to life, because she had died earlier, you know. But she wasn't really his wife – more just a reflection. She yearned to return. And so he became unsatisfied with life, and when Death came for his soul, he was happy to leave."

"And the youngest brother?"

"He wished for a way to become invisible, and so he was given an invisibility cloak. Death tried to find him, but it was no use. It was only after he was at a very old age when he said goodbye to his family and let Death find him."

"Death on his own terms."

"Exactly."

Harry stretched. "Well done Gin, fantastically told!"

"You're lucky I'm too tired to throw something at you."

"I'm being serious. It's good to hear a real-life wizarding story."

"I wish I could tell you one that I actually like," said Ginny. "I can't remember the details of the others."

"Didn't your mum tell you them?"

"She did – but I wasn't really the sitting down, reading or listening to a story type."

"Makes sense."

Ginny smiled, and Harry put his arm around her again, closing his eyes. Only moments later he gave a little snore. Ginny stared into the fire, watching the flames dart around, and tried not to think of when she had been six, and had imagined herself seeing Death.

Because no matter how hard she told herself it wasn't real, her mind kept telling her that she had seen Death.

She couldn't quite shake it off.

* * *

 _thanks so much for all the support of this story so far! i really appreciate it!_

 _also - i wrote a oneshot based on this chapter a while back, called 'chasing dreams'. feel free to check it out if you are so inclined!_


	3. 2 - dates and butterbeers

It was a Defense class with Snape, the next day. Ginny was absolutely exhausted. Staying up late talking to Harry hadn't been a good idea, but at the time she had loved it. Ginny was beginning to regret it now, however. She let out a little yawn into her elbow.

"Weasley!"

Ginny jerked up, her plaits flying out in all directions.

"What did I just say?"

Snape was smiling, knowing he had her.

"Umm … something about … um –"

"You don't know. You weren't paying attention. Ten points from Gryffindor. Why are you so tired, may I ask?"

"I'm not tired, sir," said Ginny.

"Nonsense. You were up with that Potter boy, weren't you. Doing things you shouldn't?" Snape leered over her desk, his wand clenched in his hand. "If I find out that you two were doing anything illegal, I personally will see that you are both expelled." He rapped his wand firmly on her desk, before striding back to the front of the classroom.

"What was that about?" whispered Ella Stilt, once Snape was firmly preoccupied helping a Slytherin with a spell.

"I'm not sure."

"Probably jealous of you and Harry," muttered Ella, before hurriedly turning back to her textbook.

"Copy down the words on the blackboard," snapped Snape. "Then get into partners and practice the spell. I want no injuries or complaints or unnecessary noise."

After copying down the paragraph on the Persistent Counter-Jinx, Ginny and Ella stepped down to the other side of the classroom and joined the growing crowd practicing shooting spells at each other.

"Ready?" said Ella.

Ginny clutched her wand. "Ready."

Ella shot a weak stunning spell at Ginny, and she tried to use the Counter-Jinx. It ended up backfiring and blowing up a pillow.

The feathers blew up in all directions.

"Weasley!" yelled Snape. "Clean that up! Can't even aim a simple jinx."

Red-faced, Ginny summoned the feathers and tossed them in the bin. Ella helped, grinning to herself and whispering little insults to Snape under her breath.

"Try again?" Ella said, once the feathers were cleared.

Ginny nodded, and the two of them placed themselves again in the jinxing area.

Ginny took a deep breath, and tried to ignore the other students around her, all getting the jinx perfectly right.

The first three times she tried the jinx, it failed miserably, sparks flying weakly from her wand.

The fourth time, the jinx misfired.

It landed on the chain which held up a cage of cornish Pixies.

The cage fell, breaking open with a clang. Pixies swarmed out, buzzing excitedly. Students screamed and several hid under desks.

"WEASLEY!"

Ginny took a big gulp. "Sorry, professor."

Snape currently had three pixies tugging on his hat, and another buzzing up his robes.

"See me after class!" he said, scowling viciously.

/

"I would have stuffed the feathers up his nose," said Harry, very loudly.

Ginny shushed him. "It was just annoying, you know. I caught him glaring at me at breakfast."

Harry squeezed Ginny's hand. "He glares at me all the time, you know. Welcome to the club."

"Is it because I have red hair? He doesn't like anyone with red hair, does he?"

"I guess not," said Harry.

They walked down the streets of Hogsmeade, Harry's arm sitting comfortably around Ginny's waist. They turned into the tavern, and stomped their feet on the floor, snow slipping off their shoes onto the grate.

They ordered two butterbeers and sat in a tiny stall. Ginny worried idly about her exams, and Harry hoped that they would win the next Quidditch match. "If the Dementors don't scare you first," teased Ginny, remembering the incident from Harry's Third Year.

"They won't," said Harry. "At least - not unless Voldermort gets out first."

Silence struck.

"You know - I know he'll come back, Harry, but can we not worry about it till it happens?" Ginny fumbled with her drink.

"That's exactly what he wants, Gin," said Harry. "He wants us to ignore him. He's gathering followers right under our noses."

"I know," sighed Ginny. "I just - I don't know."

"We can't ignore the situation." Harry's hands were tense around his drink, the knuckles white in the cold tavern.

"I know."

"Gin - I'm going to have to fight him, you know."

"I know. But - you will let me help you, won't you? _Harry_?"

Harry was silent, staring down at the yellow ooze in his mug.

"Harry. You're not fighting V-Voldermort without me." Something in the name terrified Ginny, but she seized Harry's hand from across the table and held it tight.

Harry just smiled a little, and tilted his head. "You know how I call you Gin?"

"Yes, but don't change the subject."

"Gin is a type of muggle alcohol. Maybe when we're both 17, I could take you out and we could try some?"

"Try some ... gin?" Ginny laughed.

"Yeah. And maybe some tonic as well. A Gin-and-tonic. That's what my uncle used to drink all the time after work, and apparently it tastes nice."

"Maybe I should start calling you 'Tonic'," laughed Ginny.

"We are Gin and Tonic!"

"The best and only decent sort of beverage!"

Harry laughed, his green eyes crinkling behind his glasses.

Ginny took a snapshot of that moment in her mind - and kept it to herself, snuggled deep in her heart.

/

The soul is grey. Grey, with blue streaks.

Ocean blue, and light blue, the sort that sits on the edge of the sky.

It's slightly warm in my arms.

Behind me, there is a procession. A sad celebration of a great life lived.

Wands are raised, hundreds of wands, in hundreds of shaking hands.

Hundreds of lumos spells light my way.

I carry Albus Dumbledore away, leaving only pain behind.

It's my job. I don't exactly have a choice.

/

The funeral was a sombre one. There were speeches from dozens of people whom Ginny had never met, let alone heard of. They stood up at the end as Dumbledore's body was carried away.

It was ... odd.

Dumbledore was meant to turn up to Breakfast the next morning, thought Ginny. In his tall hat, with his long grey beard somehow avoiding his porridge bowl. His light eyes behind his half moon glasses peering at her as he walked past, making her comfortable and confused at the same time.

But he wasn't going to walk past anymore.

Ginny shook her head.

Death is a disappearance, she thought.

And not a very nice one.

She was jerked out of her thoughts by a hand on her arm. "Can we talk?"

It was Harry. She let him pull her out of the crowd, and away from the gossiping people hovering around tables of food and butterbeer. His hand was comfortably around her waist, just where it belonged.

She was just about to ask if he was alright, when he pulled away. His hand left her waist, and his face was hard and determined.

"Are you alright? Is it too much?"

Harry looked at Ginny right in the eye. "I have to go, Ginny."

"I don't understand," stuttered Ginny.

"I have to fight Voldermort. Dumbledore gave me a job to do, and I have to do it. We have to ... stop."

"Stop?"

"We have to break up."

"It's for some stupid, noble reason, isn't it." Ginny pinched her arm, and was dismayed to find that she wasn't dreaming.

"Voldermort uses people his enemies are close to – imagine what danger you'd be in! He'll know. He'll find out. He'll try and get to me through you."

"I don't care! I'll be safe if I'm with you!"

"Gin," said Harry, and the familiar nickname made Ginny tear up, for the first time in over a year.

"Harry."

"I'm sorry." He bit his lip, then turned, and walked away.

"Harry. Harry! Tonic! Harry!"

Harry disappeared into the crowd.

Ginny turned away, then, and looked out into the Forest.

It was so big, and just then, she felt so very very small.

/

 _I wrote this chapter listening to 'you are 16 going on 17' from The Sound of Music, and i realised how much i flipping love that movie!_

 _review? xx_


	4. 3 - unspoken whispers

Ginny was back home. It only took an hour for her mother to interrogate her.

"You don't look right, dearie," said Molly Weasley, as she stirred a boiling pot of vegetable stew. "Is anything the matter? Are you and Harry all right?"

"We're fine," said Ginny, slamming a knife down on the table with an uncharacteristic slam. "Everything's fine."

Molly put down the spoon. "I've seen that look enough on my face during my Hogwarts years to know that everything is most certainly not alright, my dear. Now, what's the matter?"

Ginny just shook her head.

"Let me guess. Harry dumped you because he wants to be all heroic and go fighting You-Know-Who by himself?"

Ginny turned a very pale face to her mother, her freckles sticking out of her blanched face like little suns. "How did you know?"

Molly shook her head. "A guess, dear. An awfully correct guess. Now, I'll talk to him, don't you worry - he needs a mother's words in this time -"

"Mom! You can't do that!"

"It's what he needs, you know yourself he's only being silly!"

"Don't you dare!" Ginny's Weasley temper was letting loose. "Don't you dare say anything to Harry about this! You can't change how he feels about me!"

"Darling, you know he still likes you-"

"I don't know that! You don't know that! You don't know anything about him and his feelings! And you most certainly do not have the power to make him take me back! How could I ever look him in the face again!"

"Ginny Weasley, you watch yourself -"

"No mom, it's not okay! Don't you dare even consider talking to Harry about it! If you do I swear I'll - I'll - I'll do something drastic! I'll go run off into the wild and take on Voldemort by myself, I'll destroy him! And I'll do it without you or Harry's help! I'll do something desperate!"

And by the look of Ginny's falling out hair, pale face, and teary eyes, she most certainly would.

/

It was several weeks later, and Ginny _still_ regretted that conversation - in particular the way she had stormed upstairs and cried on her pillow, and how Ron and the twins had found out what had happened after she had yelled at them to "bloody get lost, like that bloody Harry Potter".

She had flashbacks back to her early teens – she had been awful then. Really really awful. Full of nothing but snappy remarks and sharp comebacks, something that she now recognised as nothing but a coping mechanism from her experience in the Chamber.

Ginny sighed into her pillow now. This was the day when she would see Harry for the first time since Hogwarts. This was the day when the elaborate plan - which she had managed to squeeze out of Ron - would be put into action. It was very elaborate. Changing lots of people into lots of Harry Potters was certainly very … _creative_.

She wasn't holding her breath about it working, that's for sure.

/

Ginny's mother was incredibly flustered throughout that day, and kept Ginny working at chores at every spare opportunity.

Ron, Hermione, the twins, and her father left in the late afternoon. She and her mother waved at them as they apparated - and disappeared into the horizon.

There was a sudden silence, as the both of them realised how alone they really were.

"Rightio," said Molly, immediately turning to distractions. "Let's do the laundry."

"I've already done that, mom."

"Oh, of course dear. Well, go and clean the chicken coop, dear."

"Ron did that this morning."

"Oh. Well, you can -"

"Mom, it's fine. It's fine. I'll sit with you, how about that? We'll sit and wait for them to get back. There's nothing left to do."

"I'll make some biscuits!" said a distracted Molly.

"Mom..."

But Molly had already bustled into the house, leaving Ginny on the verandah, tears stinging the back of her throat.

She pushed them back with an effort, her hands balled into fists, clutching the inside of her pockets. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," she muttered. "Don't be such a baby. Come on, you idiot. Harr- Ron wouldn't want you to bloody cry. Not now."

Somehow, thinking about how Ron wouldn't want her to cry helped a little. Her tears turned into anger, and she turned and kicked the old verandah chair with such force that it fell over, a leg cracking as it did so.

Silence filled the air, except for a vague clatter emerging from the kitchen window.

Ginny shook her head at it all.

It just wasn't bloody fair.

/

Hello. It's me again, Death.

I am right on time.

Mad Eye Moody has a wonderful, terrible soul - sea grey and deep, deep green, with splotches of scarlet.

Now it lies in my arms.

I carry it carefully away.

/

Ginny sat on the Verandah, chin on hand, waiting desperately with all her might.

She was quite sure that she had never wanted something so desperately before.

 _Please let them be okay. Please let them be okay._

There was a faint 'pop' as Hagrid and Harry burst into the garden out of thin air, clutching an old hairbrush. Ginny raced down, her mother behind her, and almost listened to the temptation to jump into Harry's arms - but somehow managed to hold herself back.

 _He's okay_ , she thought. _Hagrid's okay. Harry's okay._

She stared at Harry - he was so thin! Had he always been this thin? - and wondered how she had ever tried to convince herself that it had just been a fling, like with Dean.

No. This wasn't a fling. With an effort, she turned her thoughts back to the others. Where were they?

Harry was saying how he didn't know where they were, and Molly was hugging him.

Molly hurried inside, partly to fetch alcohol for Hagrid and mainly to wash her face.

Harry turned to Ginny.

She explained how the others should be back. Incredibly business-like, she checked her watch. "If they made it, George and Lupin will be back any moment."

Harry nodded, and Ginny once again repelled the urge to throw herself at him and hug him to pieces.

Thankfully, before she was able to give into such an awful thing, her mother appeared with red eyes and brandy for Hagrid. The half-giant downed it all in one big gulp, and smacked his lips.

The rest of them came back eventually, one by one - bedraggled and frowning, with pain in their eyes. Ginny almost - but not quite - cried when she found out Mad Eye was dead. One tear slipped out when she saw George's ear, but she wiped it away so quickly that she was nearly positive that no one saw her display of weakness.

From now on, she determined, I will be strong.

 _No more tears._

/

On the third night of Harry's stay, Ginny was setting the table when she was joined by Harry. Harry. _Potter_. She desperately ignored the butterflies in her stomach, gritted her teeth, and slammed down the knife at the place mat.

He nodded at her, and the awkwardness grew.

Ginny shook her head. She had to tell him, something that she knew her mother had been planning.

Ignoring the butterflies, she explained how her mother was planning to keep separating Ron and Hermione and him, because she was scared they'd run off.

"I thought something was up," said Harry.

"I'd hope so; you're not that stupid," said Ginny, before blushing fiercely and cursing herself.

"So your mother isn't happy with me fighting old Voldie'," muttered Harry.

"Wait - _that's_ what you are doing!"

"Yeah, but - don't tell people that, Gin!"

The old, familiar nickname slipped out of his mouth, and Ginny could almost sense him grasping for it back, it being his turn to curse himself.

Suddenly, Ginny realised how close they were, standing there in the empty kitchen. They hadn't been by themselves since that time at Hogwarts, where he had said that it was the end.

She looked at him, and he looked at her, and something passed between them, but Ginny was too overwhelmed to think about what it could possibly be - he wanted to be in her company; he could leave at any moment, but he was staying - she was extremely aware of how close he was. How his hands clutched the cutlery. How his eyelashes sat on his cheeks when he blinked, blurred behind his glasses.

They both jumped as the door opened and Bill, her father, and Kingsley bustled in. Quickly turning to finish laying the table, Ginny felt herself blushing - and she cursed her Weasley genetics that allowed her embarrassment to show up on her face.

/

Meals were the most difficult times of the day, Ginny considered. That night, she sat crammed next to Harry, barely able to use her knife and fork. She spooned a piece of potato into her mouth and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was looking at her - he quickly looked away, and focused at his chicken. A blush was creeping up his neck.

She looked away.

The unsaid things stuck between them, like dirt.

She wanted desperately to clean the dirt, but she didn't know how.

Anyway, she supposed that he didn't want to clean it. It was all in her head. He didn't love her anymore, or even like her, for that matter.

She turned her attention to the food with a little resigned sigh.


	5. 4 - gotta get back to hogwarts

Ginny closed her eyes, and opened them.

Next thing she knew, she was kissing.

Kissing. Harry. _Potter_.

She nearly fell over, and then returned the kiss, her hands around Harry's neck, butterflies flying up through her stomach and up into her brain …

And then Hermione came in, Ron following.

She and Harry broke apart. The four stared at each other, and Ginny felt her face go red.

Then she pushed past them, muttering, "There's the laundry."

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ A little voice in her head slapped her brain … why! Why had she done that! She was meant to be breaking up with him, not kissing him! What was wrong with her!

The basket of washing waited on the kitchen table. Water drops skidded out of the clothes and onto the floor, and Ginny knew that she wouldn't see Harry again that day; her mother would keep her cleaning. She lugged the basket outside.

The washing line hung between trees in the garden behind the house, held taught by magic. Ginny flung clothes out of the basket, throwing them over the line and pegging them in place viciously. "How dare he!" she said to herself. "I was done. I was so done. I am so done. I am. So. Done."

She was silent at footsteps on the porch. She purposely ignored Hermione as she clattered down the steps and picked up a nightgown from the basket.

"What happened, Ginny?"

Ginny gave a sniff.

"Come on. I thought you two had broke up?"

"We were – I mean, we are." Ginny jammed a peg onto a vest.

"Okay."

The rest of the washing was hung up in silence.

"It's okay, you know, Gin," said Hermione, as Ginny picked up the basket, balancing it on her hip.

"I just don't know," said Ginny, and Hermione nodded understandingly, giving a little glance at the house where Ron was waiting.

The good thing about Hermione, thought Ginny, was that she didn't try to understand – she knew when to be quiet.

/

At Bill's wedding, Ginny danced with Harry.

He wasn't meant to be Harry, of course. He was her cousin come visiting from far away, and he was so disfigured that she could barely recognise him.

But the way he placed his hand around her waist and the way their hands held was so familiar that she felt something sad inside her let go, and float up and up into the roof of the tent.

He twirled her, and she gasped a little at the unexpected movement, but laughed as he brought her in close again.

He smiled at her, and she smiled back, and she knew right there that she could never truly forget this love of hers. Of theirs.

But then the dance ended, and Harry was swept off by Luna. Ginny retreated to a corner, to comfort herself in a tall glass of butterbeer and cake.

She knew it could never be, but she could always remember how it _had_ been.

/

Hello, it's me again.

Death.

The Ministry Headquarters is full of souls waiting to be collected.

I know I will be very busy, but I cannot help pausing at the entrance to look at the portraits of old ministers of magic. Some of them were nicer than others.

I look at the portrait of Katrina Dolce. An orange and purple soul, I remember.

She sacrificed herself to save her love. Death for love. Death and love intertwined, their fates caught up in the same soul.

I shake my head. Humans have their own version of Love which I do not quite understand. There is no point in trying to understand it.

I take the List out of my cloak and peer down at the next name.

Scrimgeour, the Minister of Magic.

I turn towards the main office, and glide off.

/

The train to Hogwarts had a different feel to it, considered Ginny.

The most obvious change was that the compartments had been taken out, replaced by rows and aisles of seats, just like a muggle train. The two Gryffindor Carriages were jam packed full of students, some second and third years sitting two to a seat.

The second change was that it was noisier. Obviously they were more bunched up, surrounded by students on every side. But there was a large amount of nervous and confused chatter that hadn't been present in previous years.

 _Lastly_ , thought Ginny, as her friend Ella Stilt added her cross to their game of noughts and crosses, _everyone is scared._

The nervous energy flowed through the packed carriages. The Hogwarts Express had always had compartments. The change signalled something bigger.

Everyone jumped, and some people screamed, as the door at the front of the carriage opened with a bang.

A vicious looking man entered, glaring at everyone and everything. "Silence!" he roared, and he got it.

"Now," said the man, with a grin that gave Ginny chills, "Recently there has been a disappearance of several students, including Harry Potter. We simply cannot allow them to neglect their education like this. Does anyone here know the whereabouts of any missing students?"

The carriage was silent, and the train chugged on.

"Anyone?"

Students looked at each other awkwardly.

"Fine," said the man. "But continue to work on your memories, because this will come up again."

He left the carriage with a bang, and the space exploded into hushed chatter.

"Do you know where Harry is, Gin?" Ella whispered.

"Of course not! I told you we broke up," hissed Ginny.

"Oh, right, sorry," returned Ella, looking slightly hurt.

Ginny sighed and squeezed her friend's hand. "He disappeared at the wedding," she murmoured. "I don't know where he is now."

"Okay. I hope he's okay."

Ginny just nodded.

/

The hall was set up just like usual, minus the Sorting Hat, which immediately set Ginny's alarm bells ringing. She sat down at the Gryffindor table, preparing herself to applaud the First Years getting sorted.

Snape stepped out onto the podium, greeted by a mixture of polite and enthusiastic clapping. He raised his hand for silence.

"I am your new headmaster, Professor Snape," he said coldly. "You will treat me with the respect that I deserve as your headmaster. Bring in the first years, Flitwick."

A crowd of children were ushered into the hall by Professor Flitwick, all small and clearly terrified as they were led into a straight line on the stage. Ginny frowned at Snape. The Sorting Hat was still nowhere to be seen.

"We are doing things properly this year." Snape cleared his throat. "The following students, all of pureblood families, are to be accepted into the Slytherin House. Charlie Stoat. Alexis Ting. Malty Duste …"

As Snape read out the names, the new Slytherin first years stepped forward, a mixture of pride, disappointment, and confusion on their faces.

The hall was filled with angry mutterings. "Where's the Hat?" someone yelled.

Snape raised his hand, and there was something in his eyes that silenced the room. "The Hat is old, and gets thing wrong," he said. "We are sorting by tradition, and you will find it will work better than the old system. The next person to complain will see me after the Sorting."

He cleared his throat again, and looked at the list. "The Ravenclaws will be decided by those who can cast the best spell. Every First Year, get out your wands."

The children drew their wands from their pockets.

Snape peered out at the Gryffindor Table, and Ginny sat on her hands – "Miss Weasley, come to the front. Leave your wand."

Ginny stood up and passed her wand to Ella, who whispered "Good luck!"

All eyes were on Ginny as she made her way to the front of the hall. She placed herself firmly between Snape and the First Years, and he gave her a smile which made her back shiver.

Snape looked at the twenty something First Years yet to be sorted, and said, "Jinx her. The best jinxer will earn a place in the Slytherin House."

The First Years looked terrified, and Ginny couldn't blame them. She herself wasn't too worried – they were just First Years, they couldn't hurt her.

"To those worried," added Snape, "They are just First Years. They can't hurt a fly."

Suddenly, Ginny wasn't so confident.

The first eleven-year-old stepped up, and raised his wand. "Locomotor wibbly," he said, and immediately Ginny's legs got a little wobbly – she could still stand, but she gasped as her legs fluttered underneath her. She hadn't expected a small boy to know that spell. He yelled a 'sorry about that' as he hurried to the Ravenclaw table, making Ginny grin at him.

Snape lazily performed the counter curse. "Ravenclaw," he said. "Next."

The next girl dropped her wand and shook as she muttered the same spell. It did nothing, and Ginny gave a little sigh of relief. "Useless," muttered Snape. "Hufflepuff."

Most of the children's jinx's did nothing, though several performed a decent variety of jelly legs and colour changing jinxes. Eleanor Bradley made Ginny fall on her face at the _petrificus totalus_ spell. The girl gasped at her success, running to Ginny's side on the floor and tugging on her hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it would work," she whispered, struggling to hold back tears.

Snape performed the counter curse. "Ravenclaw," he announced, and the hall erupted into applause. Ginny pulled herself to her feet. She smiled grimly at the girl, but Eleanor was too busy crying to notice.

The last boy made Ginny pause. His eyes were dark and cold, and he held his wand firmly in his left hand.

She spread her feet apart, folded her arms, and shut her eyes at the last minute.

She was hit with a whoosh of cold air which froze her very blood. The next second she was hit with heat, so savage that she felt her skin burning off. She let the pain out in a little scream, holding onto her arms, digging her nails into her arm as the temperature changed into a cold that chilled her bones – the temperature was changing all at once, and she couldn't breathe –

The counter curse found her lying on the floor, shaking uncontrollably. Ginny didn't want to get up, anger bubbling up through her stomach and into her throat. Snape was saying something about putting the boy in Slytherin, but Ginny didn't care.

Everything hurt.

The hall was muttering, and she could almost feel the anger spreading towards Snape.

Snape nudged her leg with his foot. "You can leave us now, Weasley," he said softly. "Your services are no longer required."

Ginny pushed herself up with an effort and stumbled towards her seat. Ella wrapped her in a hug, whispering soothing words which Ginny didn't hear.

Snape put the First Years with families who defied the Dark Lord in Gryffindor, and the ones who looked quieter in Hufflepuff.

Then he announced: "These are your new teachers, Alecto and Amycus Carrow. They will be in charge of discipline hear at the school."

Ginny recognised the man, Amycus, from the train earlier. His sister's smile was just as awful; they were smiling at their own thoughts, not from joy.

"I have one main rule for this year," said Snape. "You do exactly what is expected of you. If you do this, then you have no reason to fear anything."

He gave a smile which came from anything but joy.

 _One thing's for sure_ , thought Ginny _, this is not going to be a fun year._


	6. 5 - dumbledore's army strikes again

Ginny's eyes flew open. A high pitched squeal ran through the dorm, making her ears ring. She rolled over and checked her watch on her nightstand – it was 2 AM.

"Whatsoingon?" she groaned.

"I don't know," said Ella Stilt, sitting up in bed. "Was it you Alexis? Alex?"

A small snore came in reply.

Suddenly, the squeal began again – louder and louder this time, travelling up and down in pitch like waves. Alexis gave a small scream as she awoke – Jane buried her head in her pillow. Several screams came from outside their closed door, which was suddenly thrown open.

It was Mcgonagall, hair loose on her shoulders, dressing gown thrown on. "Up you get girls, come down to the Great Hall. Quickly!"

She disappeared. The high-pitched scream grew louder. Jane threw her pillow across the room. Ginny sat up and threw the covers off, throwing on her dressing gown.

"What's all this about?" groaned Alexis through a yawn.

Ginny shook her head and slithered into her slippers. Whatever was happening, she was quite sure that the headmaster and the Carrows had something to do with it. They had been sent up to bed straight after the Sorting the night before, without the traditional feast.

Sixth year was shaping up to be a not very fun year.

/

The Great Hall was brightly lit and freezing at 2 AM in the morning. All the chairs and tables had been cleared away, and Ginny stood with her dormmates as the room slowly filled with students.

Ginny shivered in her worn-out dressing gown, and Ella threw her arm around her. "This sort of weather should be illegal," she shivered, her teeth chattering – in her hurry, she had neglected to wear socks.

"It should," said Ginny, hugging Ella back. She slipped off a slipper and pushed it with her foot over to her friend's bare feet.

Giggling, Ella stood on the slipper with both feet. "Thanks." She gave Ginny another squeeze and bounced up and down on the thin material. "Merlin, I wonder what in earth they called us out here at this time of night?"

"Technically it's the morning," said Jane, growling at the world in general.

Before Ella could retort, Snape's cold voice swept out from the front of the room. "If you've quite finished talking, this isn't a gossip club."

There was an immediate hush over the room.

Snape glared at everyone down his nose. "You may be wondering why we have called you all out here at this early hour. The answer is that it is not we who have done so. It was, in fact, a young man by the name of Seamus Finnigan who decided that it would be nice to have a little morning gathering."

Out of the door next to the podium advanced both the Carrows, holding an angry Seamus between them. The room gasped, and mutterings spread like fire.

"If you're quite finished." The room was silent. "Mr Finnigan thought it would be funny to paint several slogans on my office. Sentences like "Dumbledore's Army Is Alive" and "We Will Persevere" and other such nonsense. I will use now as a good time to say that the organisation previously known as _Dumbledore's Army_ shall not continue, on pain of severe punishment."

There was a general outcry – those who had been part of the DA protested loudly, and those who hadn't began gossiping in hushed tones.

Snape raised his hand, and silence fell yet again.

"Let you hereby know that such behaviour as painting a professor's property is not to be tolerated. Alecto, deal with him."

Without warning, Alecto pointed his wand at the struggling Seamus and cried, "Crucio!"

The Hall erupted in screams. Seamus yelled, his face contorted with pain, falling over onto the podium and writhing as the spell caught hold.

Ginny nearly fell over as Ella clutched her and screamed wildly into her ear.

 _This is definitely not going to be a fun year_ , thought Ginny.

/

It was two weeks into Ginny's hellish sixth year when Neville Longbottom slipped a note into her hand as he walked passed her seat at lunch.

Ginny crumpled it in her hand under the table. Ella hadn't noticed, and by the look of it, none of the other sixth years she was sitting with had either. She glanced at the teacher's table. Most of the teachers were looking incredibly uncomfortable, and she could almost sense Mcgonagall's irritation as the Carrows munched away with their mouths open.

Ginny slowly opened the note under the table, smoothing it out with shaking fingers.

 _We're starting D.A. Check your coin for meeting time. Constant vigilance!_

She almost gave a squeal, but held it in. To cover her tracks, she quickly told Ella that she was quite sure that Tomas Stay would ask her out, and that if he didn't, well, he was a git.

Ella grinned. "Do you really think he will?"

"I do!" And Ginny let herself grin until her smile reached her ears.

/

Ginny was almost the first to arrive in the Room of Requirement. She had been watching her coin all afternoon, and when it had glowed and vibrated in her pocket at four thirty, she had all but raced to the Room.

She and Luna arrived there at the same time. Luna gave a kindly wave and greeting, and the two of them entered the Room.

Only Neville and Seamus were there, talking in hushed tones. They looked up when they saw Ginny and Luna. "Great to see you!" said Neville.

"Great to be here!" returned Ginny, feeling slightly out of place for a moment. "Um … I mean, I've had classes with the Carrows so I know _why_ you want to start up the D.A. again – that Defence Against the Dark Arts class had nothing to do with Defending the Dark Arts – but how is this going to work?"

"That's what we were just discussing," said Seamus. Neville, to Ginny's surprise, blushed bright red. "I reckon that Neville here ought to lead us. What do you think?"

"I think that that is a wonderful idea!" said Ginny, fixing her eyes on Neville. He blushed even redder and mumbled something.

"Speak up, man!" cried Seamus.

"I just don't think – I don't think I have the leadership skills."

"Nonsense! Are you a Gryffindor or are you a Gryffindor? You'd be fantastic."

Ginny nodded sincerely. Neville _would_. "Come on, you'd be great!"

"You'd be just as good as Harry, Neville," said Luna. Ginny was surprised to see a slight blush on Luna's cheeks.

Neville hesitated, then: "Fine. But only if I can have you three as vice captains."

It was Ginny's turn to blush now. "Why?" she demanded.

"Because it's you who'll keep the moral going, Ginny, and who'll make sure that we don't have any disloyalty among us. And you, Seamus, you'll keep me in check, and lead the resistance by example. And Luna, you'll make sure we remember what we're fighting for." It was as if Neville had grown two more feet. "I'll do it, but I can't do it alone."

"I'm in, then," said Seamus.

"I think it's a wonderful idea," said Luna.

Ginny hesitated. _What would Harry do – I mean, what would dad do?_ She shook the thought away. "Me too."

"Let's make sure that the Carrows don't forget about Dumbledore's Army," said Neville, his eyes flashing, as the door to the Room opened and three old DA members hustled in.

/

It was the next day; a Saturday. Ginny was searching through a shelf in the library, looking for the perfect book on jinx defence, when she heard her name.

"Ginny!" The hushed whisper made Ginny turn.

"Ella!"

"What are you doing in the Defence section? Aren't we meant to be studying for Potions?" Ella chewed her lip. "I'm just so flipping worried about this essay. I mean, who knows anything about tracking potions?"

"I'm just – looking. You're right. I should be studying for Potions." Ginny shook her head, and then tilted it.

"What, Gin?" Ella gave a nervous giggle. "You always stare like that! It's – unnerving."

"Yes. Sorry. Can we sit down?"

Ella's smile faded. "Um … the Carrows are in the seating area," she whispered. "I came to warn you. I mean, not that it's _not_ okay or safe to go there, but …"

"I understand, thanks for letting me know."

Ginny looked so serious that Ella cried, in a half whisper, "Oh, don't look so! They're fine. I just thought I'd tell you. But they can't do anything, you know, without proof. Why are you so worried? I'm pretty sure they're just reading."

"Nothing," said Ginny. She chewed her lip for a moment, considering. _Would the D.A. be too much for Ella?_ "Do you ever feel like you want to tell someone something, but don't know how, or whether you even should?"

"Well, not really," said Ella truthfully. "Unless you count asking Tomas Stay out, which is something I've been meaning to do for ages. Do you really think he'd say yes? Maybe I just should."

Ginny smiled then, and flung her arm around Ella's shoulder. Ella was a dear, an innocent, naïve dear, and she should stay that way. "You know, Ella Stilt, you are positively ridiculous."

"And you are even more so!"

"Then let's be ridiculous together, Ella Stilt!" Ginny lifted her face and yelled, without thinking, "Ella Stilt is ridiculous!"

There was a sweep as Madam Pince appeared out of nowhere and glaringly swept them out of the library, with cries of "No talking in my library!"

Ella Stilt and Ginny Weasley laughed, arms around each other's shoulders as they ran from the library.

/

Hello. It's Death again. This time I'm on an errand, in the middle of bustling London.

Care to join me?

I sweep down into a house. There are two humans, cowering behind a kitchen table.

Four other humans laugh. Wands are raised.

I look away.

As I wait for the torture to finish and for my presence to be needed, I look at photos, hanging up on the living room walls. They cover the walls; a collage of memories.

I know I shouldn't stare, but I do.

Humans _do_ fascinate me. There are pictures of a family, with three people, laughing. There are pictures of a dog, of grandparents, and of a baby.

A moving image of a brown-haired girl catches my interest. It's the baby, grown up. She is laughing, and her arm is flung around another girl's shoulder – a red haired girl, with brown eyes. A soul the colour of crimson and deep, deep green.

I recognise her –

It is Ginevra Weasley.

It cannot be, but it is.

I look away.

Ginevra's eyes stare at me through the picture, the look of a human that has seen Death.

I step back into the kitchen, and the four Death Eaters are laughing at their handiwork.

I prise Lucy and Jack Stilt's souls from their bodies.

Souls the colour of the deep ocean, and of the pages of books. Of memories.

I leave, the colourful souls leaking and fading in my footsteps as I glide away.


	7. 6 - peripheral memories

It was a quiet Sunday morning when Mcgonagall called Ella aside during breakfast. Ginny thought nothing of it, until she went to the library – where she and Ella had agreed to meet, to work on their abstract potions essay – and Ella wasn't there.

She tried to study by herself, but memories nagged at the corners of her brain. She kept remembering things, things she had tried to forget.

 _The Chamber is silent._

 _Tom Riddle turns, his smile comforting. "Come here Ginny. You have done so, so well. Only one thing left now."_

 _Ginny smiles, trusting, and Tom's smile grows, until he is nothing but one big grin who only wants to be her friend._

 _Her only friend._

 _She steps closer – and falls. Sprawled on the floor._

 _Something comes out of Tom, a snake of colour and darkness weaving its way towards her chest …_

"NO!"

Ginny's quill was snapped in her fingers; her hands were shaking. She forced herself to breathe. _What the_ …

Madam Pince descended like a cloud. "No yelling in my library!" she whispered harshly. "OUT!"

Ginny was barely able to snatch up her books as she was pushed out of the library, the broken quill spilling from her arms and slowly floating down onto the floor.

/

 **Two weeks later**

Ella had left to stay with her uncle, without even saying goodbye. Mcgonagall had told Ginny and Jane and Alexis about Ella's parents. Ella, who had known Lucy and Jack Stilt fairly well, shed several hot tears and made a little memorial stone for them under one of the trees near the lake. It was what Ella would have wanted.

She had written to Ella, and her friend had replied, in a short and painful letter which promised more at a later date.

Now Ginny was sitting in Potions class, struggling to concentrate while Slughorn droned on and on about Liquid Luck and Abstract Potions. She had just returned from a short D.A. session during lunch, and her mind was on anything but Potions.

Her desk was cold beneath her legs. She felt old. Anciently old. She stared at her hands, and wondered what they would do one day. They were so fresh and young; they still had so much to experience and feel and touch and hold. Yet she felt so _old_.

Ginny imagined herself grasping her wand; pointing it at Death Eaters. Performing curses that her father would shake his head at. Making Harry proud –

Yes.

 _Yes_ , she would make Harry proud.

Ginny slipped her hand into her pocket, and fingered her wand. Its smooth edge calmed her fingers, and made her take a deep breath.

"Miss Weasley!"

"Pardon?" Ginny looked up, her face pale and her freckles standing out like stars.

Slughorn was slightly taken aback by her intense gaze, but he would never admit it. "I asked you about the properties of Abstract Potion. Were you even listening?"

"I'm sorry sir, I wasn't."

Slughorn refused to be unnerved by Ginny's unapologetic stare. "A point from Gryffindor. As I was saying, an Abstract Potion allows the drinker to be aware of magic. By aware, I mean that they can see it. Magic becomes visible. Yes, Cripps?"

"What does it look like, sir?" asked Jane.

"Magic, you mean? Well, it looks like swirls and sparkles and all that you'd expect it to look like, I suppose. As I was saying, a well-made dose of Abstract will provide no side-effects aside from a slight dizziness, but a badly made dose can be crippling and have immense long-term damage. This is an intensely difficult potion to create, but I am going to give you all the opportunity to attempt it. Weasley, were you even listening?"

Ginny shook her head, and turned to stare out the window.

As five more points were taken from Gryffindor and Slughorn droned on about the difficulty of the potion, Ginny decided very firmly that she was going to hold it together.

She had to finish this.

She had to be strong.

 _No more tears._

/

The D.A. had three main adventures over the course of the rest of Ginny's time at Hogwarts.

The first was spreading rumours, painting walls with slogans, and keeping up the moral.

The second was training and practicing to fight. Neville constantly reminded the group of thirty seven D.A. members that they were training to help Harry when he returned; to help him fight You-Know-Who, and to win.

The third venture was the least successful. Ginny, along with Neville and Luna, tried to steal the sword of Godric Gryffindor. They had planned to give it to Harry, to help him in his cause.

It didn't work, to say the least.

Ginny thought afterwards that she should have known that it wouldn't work. After that awful night in the Forbidden Forest, where she, Neville, and Luna had huddled under a tree as insects climbed up their bodies, and dark things licked their feet and only disappeared with the _crucio_ curse, Ginny realised that it had been a stupid idea in the first place.

And then Luna didn't come back after Christmas Holidays.

Hold on, thought Ginny. _Hold on hold on hold on._

And somehow she did, until the Easter Holidays, when she was finally able to go home to see her family.

/

"Ron _what_?"

"He went back, don't worry. But we haven't heard anything from him since. Just thought you should know. I want you to know everything."

"Why didn't you write and tell me?" Ginny's hands were clenched in frustration.

"What would you have done?" Molly took her hands out of the dishwater and frowned at Ginny. "Told him off? That wouldn't have helped matters at all. Besides, I only found out after – he stayed at Bill's."

"Yes, but …"

"There's nothing to it. He left Harry and Hermione, and now he's back with them. This was way back in Winter. There's no need to get yourself worked up about it."

"But mum –"

"Not another word!"

Mrs Weasley looked positively fierce, and Ginny stormed up to her room. She heard her father's voice call her, but she ignored him, slamming her door.

She couldn't believe it! Ron had actually left Harry and Hermione alone in the wilderness, doing whatever dangerous business they had been doing, trying to defeat the Dark Lord. Why, if _she_ had been in such a situation, she would rather have _died_ than betray her friends.

Especially not Harry.

Ginny leant on the window sill, the curtains flapping gently in the icy wind. The horizon was clouded; the sun would be setting soon. The trees stood overcast in the distance. The garden was ill-kept; since all the Weasley children were away, it had fallen into disrepair. She glimpsed the broom shed on the corner of the paddock, and smiled a little. So many memories …

So much love.

There was a screech from downstairs; it was her mother. Ginny threw herself downstairs, her feet barely touching the steps. "What's it?"

Bill was climbing out of the fireplace in the living room. Ginny gasped and threw herself on him, "Bill!"

He barely returned her hug. "You need to get out!"

"What?" Her father stared, clearly in shock.

"They caught Ron, Harry, Hermione. They escaped, mum, it's okay, but they'll be after you next. They could be here any second. You need to go."

"Oh great Merlin," muttered her mother.

"Grab anything, quick!"

Ginny's father sprung into action. "Ginny, grab your school trunk, quick! Molly, the briefcase and the papers. I'll lock up. Quick, Gin!"

Ginny sprinted upstairs and tore into her bedroom, seizing her school trunk, which she (luckily) had yet to unpack. She rolled it down the stairs, just in time to see Bill closing the last curtain, and her father locking the kitchen door.

The trunk was thrown in the fire, and – "Muriel's house!" cried Bill. He disappeared in a flash.

"You're next, Gin," cried her father, almost throwing her into the fire.

Without thinking, Ginny threw the floo powder and sneezed. "Muriel's house!"

There was a flash, and a bang, and a puff.

When Ginny opened her eyes, she fell into her aunt Muriel's arms, and for the first time in her life, didn't want to let go.


	8. 7 - apparition is key

"You should continue your education," said Ginny's father over breakfast the next day. "You don't want to fall behind in your studies."

"Who'll teach me?" Ginny took a bite of egg and raised her eyebrows at her father.

"I'm happy to," said Aunt Muriel. Ginny stifled a grimace. "I earned 7 NEWTs, and got wonderful marks in history, you know. Young people just don't try as hard anymore."

"I'm sure they don't," said Arthur, before winking at Ginny.

"It's settled then," said Muriel, pursing her lips. "I'll teach History, and Astronomy, and -"

"And I'll teach Charms and Defense," interrupted Arthur. "That's all you need, really. No use for anything else for the time being. Is that all okay with you, Molly?"

"It sounds like a good plan," said Molly, buttering her toast.

"Learning to cook would also be a good plan," said Aunt Muriel, pointing her fork at Ginny. "Young ladies were brilliant cooks in my day. Could cook anything they turned their minds to. What can you cook?"

"Umm ... Scrambled eggs? Toast?"

"I suppose it's because you don't have to do any cooking at that school of yours, do you," said Muriel loudly. "All the House Elves do it for you. Well, it's handy, but it means you miss out on a skill that you'll likely miss when you get married."

" _When_ I get married?"

"Now Ginny," said her mother, correctly recognising the mischievous twitch around Ginny's mouth. "You can't cook well, and it's been something I've been meaning to teach you, so you might as well learn."

Ginny took a sip of tea from one of her aunt's pink porcelain teacups. "I'd rather learn to apparate, to be honest."

"And you shall," said her father, interrupting Muriel mid-gasp. "It's an important skill to have, and you'll probably need it."

"Very well," sniffed Aunt Muriel, shaking her head. "But nothing good will come of it, I promise you. But I suppose as long as you know how to embroider, it doesn't really matter whether you can apparate or not."

" _Embroider_?"

"You can't embroider? We will start straight after breakfast!" cried Aunt Muriel.

Ginny groaned and drained her tea in one big gulp.

"Small sips, Ginevra, small sips!" cried Muriel. "What will your husband think!"

"I don't particularly care!" said Ginny offhandedly, which received a great gasp from her aunt and a sigh from her mother.

/

Fred and George were visiting for the day, needing somewhere to stay after their other headquarters had been found. Ginny showed them how she could apparate all around the garden, thanks to her father's painstaking teaching.

"Good job Gin!" laughed Fred.

"Next thing you know you'll be married and have five kids!"

"As long as you name one after me, I don't mind." Fred patted Ginny on the head condescendingly, even though she was only three inches shorter than him.

"Don't _you_ start talking about marriage," grumbled Ginny. "It's all I've been hearing from Muriel for the past week."

"Hey, you don't have to get married."

"Not unless you want to be lonely forever," winked Fred.

"As long as you invite us to the wedding!"

"And have a big table of food." Fred patted his sister on the back. "But if you don't get married - at least you'll get to come to mine."

"And who will you be getting married to?" returned Ginny, slipping her arm into Fred's.

"I don't know yet," said Fred. "Not until this blasted war is over, anyway."

"I suppose I'll never get married," said Ginny, and she sighed.

"Nonsense," said George, and took hold of her other arm. "Harry will defeat You-Know-Who soon, and then we'll be all fine! And you can get back together again."

"And I'll design the wedding invitations," said Fred. "bright red with green spots, I think!"

Ginny smiled a little, then laughed. "I'll design my own wedding invitations, thank you very much!"

"We'll see about that," said George, and both of them nodded to each other and lifted Ginny off the ground between them. She shrieked, and Fred laughed so hard he dropped her.

And the three of them lay on the grass, laughing at themselves and at the Dark Lord and at homemade wedding invitations, and at the general stupidity of life.

/

The sunset is golden.

Night falls -

And I am ready.

It's going to be a long night.

/

Ginny pushed through the door with her brothers, Lee, and Cho Chang. The Room was larger than she'd remembered, filled with hammocks and targets and bookshelves - and the D.A.

And there was Ron - and Hermione - and Harry! And Harry was turning, and saying hello, and Neville was hugging her, and Ron was hugging her, and Hermione was hugging her, and Luna was hugging her, and Harry -

He was looking at her, and gave a smile.

Then he turned back to the crowd.

Ginny was too confused to say anything, but her brothers were saying how they'd come to help fight.

"I need to get to the Ravenclaw Common Room," said Harry.

"I'll take you," said Cho, leaping out of nowhere.

Everything swirled up in Ginny, and she cried "No!"

Cho glared at her, but Ginny ignored it. "Luna can take you," she suggested. "Is that okay, Luna?"

"I'd love to," said Luna simply, and held out her hand. "Come on Harry."

Harry smiled at Luna, and then at Ginny, and left the Room.

The D.A. looked at each other.

"What now?" said someone.

"We get ready," said Neville, his fists tight. "And then we fight."

A cheer rose up, and Ginny whispered - "And we will win."

 _No more tears._

/

Ginny stalked the room, seething internally. She hated how she couldn't fight! She wanted to fight; she had to fight!

Tonks and Neville's grandmother were sitting in the corner, bandaging a cut on Tonks' arm. Tonks was bouncing up and down, muttering to herself, clearly desperate to fight.

They probably wouldn't notice if she left.

Probably.

Ginny's hand found its way towards the Door, and she hesitated for a moment - then touched the doorknob ...

And jumped back as it opened all by itself.

On the other side were Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"I need you to leave," said Harry. "I have to use the Room for something." His hair was wild and his glasses were crooked, and Ginny brushed his shoulder as she left the room behind Tonks and Neville's grandmother.

"Ginny - come back here, won't you?" said Harry weakly, as Ron shut the door.

"I will," lied Ginny. She gave Harry a dry smile.

Harry shook his head at her, then squeezed her hand. Butterflies flew up Ginny's spine. She bit her lip.

Harry looked like he was going to say something, but then he shook his head and let go of her hand. "Come on!" Ron was crying. "What about the House elves?"

"Ginny, come on," Tonks was saying. "I need you to go to the Potions Classroom and grab me some Dittany for wounds, as much as you can find. I'll be in the Hall, bring it to me, okay? And then it's straight back to the Room."

Ginny nodded, and then began sprinting down the corridors.

 _Let's kill some death eater_ , she thought, pushing her legs faster and faster, further and further towards the Potions Classroom.

 _Let's do this._

/

 _This chapter was written listening to the Lala Land soundtrack, which you should all watch if you haven't already!_

 _As always thanks for reading, and I'm sorry this was a little shorter – things'll pick up next chapter!_

 _Review? xx_


	9. 8 - a red, red sky

Ginevra sees me again, for the second time, at the Battle of Hogwarts.

Humans have a way of not getting along. It really doesn't make sense, does it – most animals get along just fine with their own species. And yet, humans are also the only species to truly become one in the face of a common foe. They combine to fight, and they also disperse when combining is most needed.

Humans don't make sense to me. You'd think that I, as Death, would understand them by now. But I must admit that they still confuse me.

Anyway, I digress. Let us return to the present.

The sky is stained with blood.

/

Ginny ran, faster and faster towards the Potions Classroom.

The door was slightly ajar, as if the class had just been dismissed. She slipped inside, and past the empty desks to the Ingredients Cupboard at the back of the room. Opening it, she pulled out the vials, trying to find the Dittany.

She finally found three bottles of it, hiding behind a row of purple vials of Abstract Potion. She remembered brewing the Abstract Potion, way back before Christmas, next to Ella, giggling over the ingredients – 'A pinch of shredded Cornish Pixie excrements'.

Barely thinking, she slipped both the Dittany and a vial of Abstract Potion into her pocket.

She got up and sprinted out of the classroom, her mind reeling. Get to the _Hall_.

The Hall was filled with aurors and students, discussing plans in hushed voices. The room was filled with a nervous energy that propelled Ginny towards the pink haired auror.

Tonks was talking earnestly to another auror. They both turned at Ginny's approach, and the other auror checked his watch.

"Thanks Ginny." Tonks turned and put the Dittany on a bench nearby. "Now get back to The Room, okay? Your ma will kill me if she founds you out. Get going!"

"Sure," lied Ginny, before sprinting out of the Hall with no intention of returning to the Room.

She hurried through the castle, with no real plan. Twice she ran into teachers who barely noticed her as they rampaged through the halls, sending patronuses down the halls and firing spells at the walls.

Ginny eventually made her way to the front door of Hogwarts. There she found Neville, giving a pep talk to the others in the foyer. She was positive he had noticed her, but he continued to yell. "We will fight! This is what we trained for!"

There was a resounding yell of reply. "FOR THE D.A.!"

People patted each other on the backs and raced off to the towers. Ginny approached Neville, stepping deliberately through the hall. Neville turned from MacMillan, who smiled grimly at her before following Flitwick out, and glared at Ginny. "What on earth do you think you're doing?"

"I'm staying to fight, Neville."

"There's no way I can-"

"You don't get a choice." Ginny spoke bluntly, her eyes shining out of her face like something unearthly. "I'm staying to fight. This is as much of my fight as anyone else. I'm certainly trained enough."

Neville shook his head, acknowledging that he didn't have the time to argue. "Fine. Get moving. Follow Macmillan and look after the Gryffindor Tower."

Ginny nodded, and turned to run to the tower, jolting out of the way as she spotted her parents entering the hall from behind her.

She was ready to fight.

/

The battle of Hogwarts officially begins.

Red seeps out under the black tablecloth that makes up the sky.

I take a deep breath, and begin to work.

/

Ginny Weasley ran and fired spells left and right, jolting in between suits of armour and from behind closed doors. She was desperately aware of everything; every scream, every yell - "The Death Eater's have gotten in!" - every single groan of pain that surrounded her.

She sprinted around a corner, along with Macmillan and one other DA member.

Around the other side were two death eaters, raising their wands ...

Ginny fired stunning spell after stunning spell, shooting rays of pain at the death eaters.

Her feet began to waver - they were just so strong ...

"It's no good," MacMillan was saying, as he barely deflected a particularly nasty Boil hex. Ginny aimed a couple of her bag-bogey hexes, but the death eaters flicked them aside as if they were flies. She shook her head, and raised a shield. Holding it up, she saw out of the corner of her eye Macmillan try to lift up Sinclair - or was it Dustin, she hadn't known him that well - she shook her head and focused, holding the shield, not allowing it to move...

Macmillan yelled, "Hold it, I'll be back!" as he grabbed the unconscious - or worse - DA member and, holding him in middair with his wand, ran as fast as he could, around the corner and out of there.

Ginny's shield crumbled. She pushed harder, aiming all the magic she could muster at holding it up, but she knew that it was hopeless. The Death Eaters were sending curse after curse at it, metres away from her, slowly advancing with cruel smiles etched on their faces.

She acted on instinct, barely thinking. She removed the shield with a flick, and ran back as fast as she could around the opposite corner from where Macmillan had headed. She heard their rapid footsteps following her, as she rounded a second corner - and felt herself lifted up into the air with the force of a great, great wind.

She clutched her wand, her only weapon, and whispered a little goodbye to herself.

The air whooshed about her.

She landed with a thud that made her lose all thought.

/

I step out into the chaos, this ridiculous environment that humans have created.

Once again, I am too early - by a long shot. Fred Weasley is still very much alive, fighting other humans, shooting spells and yelling insults at various Death Eaters.

I sit, in the large space where the four corridors meet, and I wait.

And I hold my breath as Ginevra Weasley came into my vision, flying through the air like an angel.

But she is just human. Just a poor, unfortunate human.

If it wasn't in the Job Description that I am not allowed to prevent humans from dying, I might be tempted to help her.

Luckily, I am not tempted. Ginevra lands behind a pile of rubble, landing out of sight.

She is alive; she is not on the List.

I shake my head and look back at Fred Weasley.

He is about to fall.

/

Ginny opened her eyes, slowly, yet almost reluctantly. It was the sound of a cry that had done it - a terrible, heart-felt cry that made goosebumps appear on her dirty arms.

She was collapsed behind a large pile of rubble, that appeared to have fallen from the ceiling above. Behind her was a corner; a wall. Perfectly sheltered, until she chose to get up and resume her fight.

With an effort, she sat up - still not quite tall enough to see over the wall of rubble, she felt herself all over. She was miraculously unhurt, except for an egg slowly growing on her head, and grazed elbows and knees.

The cry came again. She heard sobs. She figured that she should probably investigate.

She stood up, and nearly fell over again.

She knew.

And immediately, she wanted to forget.

/

It all happens so fast – yet so slow.

It always does.

I feel the call – Fred Weasley is waiting. I roll up my sleeves, and glide over to him.

There he is, lying there, and surrounded by them – the loved ones.

I slip past. I take his soul in my arms – it is still warm.

It is red and green. Festive. Joyful. Ready for a laugh. I smile despite myself. He is happy.

I turn, the soul in my arms. There is still so much work to do.

Something pulls at me, tugging at the edges of my mind. _Turn around_. _Look back_. This was such a happy soul – why not look behind me?

So I do, and once again, just like that day ten years before, I deeply regret it.

There they are, the loved ones, huddled around the body. Crying. Salt water. Anger, deep red anger.

And Ginevra rises from her cave of rubble, and looks at Fred.

Her eyes fill with tears. Her mouth opens.

I turn and leave quickly.

The grief of humans is something that I prefer not to witness.

There is still so much work to do.


	10. 9 - swirls and whirls

Ginny ran. She ran and ran until she found herself in what had been the great hall, but was now a confusing place of hexes and spells and falling ceilings. She wasn't quite sure how she made it there afterwards, but her head was a blur. She couldn't think straight.

Fred couldn't be … dead.

He _couldn't_ be.

She fired spell after spell, aimlessly jabbing her wand into the air and almost uncaringly ducking as hexes blew her hair in all directions.

The great hall was full of duelling wizards. Ginny sent a stunner at the back of the death eater duelling Luna - threw a bat-bogey hex at the werewolf who had just tried to stun her - and ran out of the great hall.

The corridor outside was less busy, almost empty - except for a lone death eater looking at her with an awful smile. He raised his wand.

Ginny pointed her wand, aimed, and fired.

The death eater pushed the spell aside like it was nothing.

Ginny yelled, and started firing spells at him, jabbing the air with her wand, her mind blurred as he deflected the spells with ease. "Arghh!" she cried, barely able to think, throwing spell after spell ... a gash opened on her arm, and she felt something wet drip onto her sleeve ... she vaguely realised that she'd have to clean it later...

And then Neville appeared from nowhere and sent a stunner at the death eater from behind. The death eater fell over, a vague expression of surprise on his face.

Ginny stared at him. His eyes were so vacant, she thought. Just like Fred's -

"Woah, come on, stand up," said Neville, catching Ginny as she swayed on the spot, her wand falling to the floor with a clatter.

She brought a hand to her face. "I'm sorry, I just - I'm fine."

Neville looked about them, making sure there were no stray death eaters rounding the corner. A particularly loud scream pierced the air.

"Look, go hide," he said, almost pleadingly. "You don't need to do this."

"I have to."

"You don't. You're not even of age yet. Go back to the Room of Requirement, you'll be safe there."

"I won't," said Ginny. The fuzz at the edge of her brain began to clear away. "Nowhere is safe. Not until we finish this."

Neville bent down and picked up Ginny's wand. "Fine," he said simply. "Stay safe."

"You too."

Ginny and Neville took a deep breath, and nodded to each other. Neville turned and hurried back through the wide doorway, and Ginny followed him, her heart pumping and her brain miraculously clear.

 _Think about seeing Fred later_ , she thought desperately. _It can wait._

She had to finish this.

She had to be strong.

 _No more tears._

/

I am so, so busy.

I can't take holidays, you know. It's really not part of the job description of being Death.

But, whether fortunately or unfortunately, not having holidays means that you get very used to the job.

I certainly am very used to mine.

/

People screamed as Voldemort's cold, pitiless voice swept through the castle. "You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity."

Ginny gave a deep breath as the death eaters left the castle, disappearing to join Voldemort somewhere in the Great Forest. Yelled curses followed them, and sorrow seeped through the ruptured walls of Hogwarts.

Then: "Harry Potter, I now speak directly to you."

Ginny caught her breath.

"If, at the end of the time you have not come to me, then the battle will recommence. I will punish everyone who held you from me. One hour."

The voice ended as suddenly as it had appeared. People started muttering, then talking, then crying; Ginny heard Mcgonagall cry, "Gather in the Great Hall!"

Swept along with the crowd, Ginny joined the great hall. People were being laid out in rows - well, not people, really, thought Ginny vaguely. Bodies. Corpses.

She decided then and there that she hated the word 'corpse'.

The thought of 'corpse' made her accidentally think of – of Fred.

Ginny shook her head. She couldn't do it. She heard her mother's cry, and her father's moans, even from the other side of the hall.

Somehow she found herself at the other end of the hall. Staring down at Fred's body, she felt her head fill with fuzz again.

Thinking was hard.

She wanted to cry –

But she pushed it down.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid_. Crying was stupid. She wasn't going to cry.

She jumped at an arm draping itself around her shoulders. It was Hermione, tears silently sliding down her cheeks, squeezing her hard.

Through a blur of fuzzy, incoherent thoughts, Ginny noticed Ron too, standing by her remaining brothers, tears falling down his face as he stared at Fred.

She looked around desperately, but Harry was not there.

He had disappeared, and she thought she knew exactly where.

The fuzz called, and Ginny gave way, and fell into it.

/

A soul hadn't quite let go yet. I sit here waiting for the soul to loosen - it's a bright blue one this time, with copper edging - and then I can see Ginevra.

She is standing, silently, as still as stone, staring blankly at her brother's unmoving feet.

Somewhere, in the deep depths of my heart, I feel something that I have not felt for a very long time.

Not since I met three brothers on a bridge all those years ago.

Is it pity?

Is it love?

Whatever it is, I shake my head.

There is still so much work to do.

I take the blue soul with copper edging, and glide away.

/

The fuzz was clearing, slowly. Ginny took a deep breath. Her body was numb, wanting to do nothing but crawl into a corner and sleep, but her brain was telling her to go _do_ something.

"Ginny?" Hermione was staring at her, her red eyes rimmed with dust and tears.

"I'm fine." Ginny stood up, somewhat shakily.

"Where are you going?"

"Now isn't the time to cry," said Ginny. "We have work to do, you know. Let's cry after."

And she took off, without turning back, hurrying past the weeping people in the great hall and ignoring Hermione's protests. She hurried down the front steps of Hogwarts, and looked over the battlefield. Straggling survivors crept through the wreckage of rubble and stone and broken statues, searching for the dead and injured.

She rushed towards the first people she recognised. Neville and Oliver Wood were stooping over a tiny body – Colin Creevey. She pushed down the fuzz and bile that rose with a large effort. "Do you need help?"

Oliver Wood stared at her blankly a moment, before recognition sunk in. "Ginny Weasley? Aren't you underage?"

"She's fine, Wood," said Neville, before Ginny could respond. "Check for survivors, will you, Gin?"

Ginny heard Wood's protests in her ears as she hurried away, her eyes scanning the rubble. She darted around a large rock that had fallen short of the castle, and spotted a moving bundle on the ground.

It was sobbing.

Ginny knelt down next to it – it was a girl, surely underage, whom she thought she recognised as a Hufflepuff fifth year. "Where does it hurt, dearie?"

"I – don't – know–" sobbed the girl. Her long brown hair spread in the dirt, and her cloak barely concealed a pool of red blood that was lying, stale, beneath her.

"Don't worry now, you'll be safe. You just need to breathe for me, okay? Just focus on breathing," whispered Ginny, the words tumbling out of her. "We'll get you safe!" She sent sparks up into the air, to signal someone to help. She couldn't carry the girl inside on her own.

"I want my mother," whispered the girl. "I want – I want my mother."

"It's all right. It's okay. We're going to get you inside."

"But I want to go _home_!" the girl implored, desperate. "I don't want to fight anymore!"

"I know," said Ginny, feeling her resolve disappearing, and the fuzz rising. "It's going to be all right."

There was a sound behind her. Ginny whipped around, her hand at her wand even before she could think –

A stone, kicked by some unseen foot, cluttered its way to Ginny, landing at her crouched feet.

Slowly, Ginny raised her exhausted eyes. "Who's there?" She clutched her wand, wary.

"Who is it?" moaned the Hufflepuff. "Is it mum?"

"No, dearie. But we'll get you to her." Ginny clutched her wand tighter, and slowly stood up. There was silence. She suspected that she had imagined it –

Then there was a shuffle.

"Harry!" she cried, without thinking. "Please!"

Another silence.

"Please."

A whisper in the dark came, silent and almost inaudible.

"I have to do this, Gin."

Ginny could have said a whole multitude of things, but she bluntly spoke her heart.

"Stop being so stupidly heroic Harry! We need you. You'll only die if you go out there. He's got all his death eaters with him, Harry. You'll die in an instant."

"You don't understand."

Ginny felt his disappointment; his wish that she knew what he was planning.

"Then help me to."

"I can't. There isn't time."

The girl on the ground moaned. Ginny tore her eyes away from the empty space where Harry was, and glanced down. Blood crept through the cracks in the rock.

"I'm a horcrux, Ginny. The last, except for Nagini. I have to die. And _he_ has to do it. I understand it all now."

Ginny shook her head, her thoughts racing. It was all so ridiculous! And what on earth was a horcrux?

"I need you to do something for me, Gin. Tell Neville to kill Nagini."

"I will, but …"

A silence grew.

"Please let me go, Gin, I have to."

"I … "

"Please, Gin."

A silence grew. Ginny felt Harry's presence, felt his breathing. She longed to hug him, to do what he needed to do for him.

"I love you, Harry."

A silence. A tear.

Then Ginny felt lips pressed hard against hers, and a whispered, "Stay safe." Padding, invisible feet ran away.

-Harry

-Was

-Going

-To

-Die.

Then Ginny heard Flitwick arrive and tell the Hufflepuff girl behind her that it was all going to be okay, and he picked her up with a spell, and started to carry her back, and then he told Ginny to leave during the truce, she should stay safe, for her family's sake. She didn't need to fight.

Ginny shook her head and sprinted into the great hall.

 _What on earth is a horcrux?_


	11. 10 - small clearings

"Hermione! HERMIONE!"

"Yes, Gin?" Hermione was collapsed on the floor and was slowly wrapping a piece of cloth around her ankle, in a corner of the hall, near the entrance.

Ginny plonked herself down next to her. Ignoring the pity in Hermione's eyes: "Hermione, I need to know what a horcrux is."

Hermione froze, ankle half bandaged. "Where did you hear that word?"

"Never mind that now - seriously, Hermione, this is ridiculously important! Please tell me what it is, then I'll get out of your hair."

Ginny pleaded with her all her might and eyes, and something worked, because Hermione unfroze. She looked back down at her half-bandaged ankle. "A horcrux," she said, in her matter-of-fact I'm-explaining-something voice, "Is a part of your soul, held inside an object. Voldermort split his soul into seven parts, and that's what we've been doing. Destroying them. We still have one to destroy. Then Voldermort will be almost defenceless."

"So - it's your soul? How does that even work?"

"If you are killed, and have a horcrux, then you can't fully die. It's how Voldermort didn't die when he tried to kill Harry. I don't know how he does it," said Hermione, her eyes looking at Ginny again. "But however he does, it's extremely dark magic."

"So – how do you destroy it? A horcux, I mean."

"Several ways." Hermione tied the bandage with a satisfied nod. "The diary was one – from your first year, remember?"

"Of course I remember," said Ginny, as memories flooded back. She pushed them down with an effort. How could she forget?

"Harry destroyed it with a basilisk fang. I destroyed one earlier, with another fang. Ron and Dumbledore used the Sword of Gryffindor for theirs. We destroyed one in the Room, which was why we had to get you out, by the way. We used Fiendfyre for that one. The Room is pretty much destroyed now."

"Are there any horcruxes left, other than Harry?"

"There's just one, Nagini – wait, Harry? Harry isn't a horcux, Ginny," said Hermione slowly. Then: "Where did you hear that? Quick!"

"Harry told me." Ginny bit her lip. "We ran into each other earlier. He was heading to the Forbidden Forest."

"Of course." Hermione's head was in her hands, and she was groaning. "OF COURSE! I'd kill that Dumbledore, if he wasn't dead already!"

"What – "

"He has to die! Oh, why didn't I see this before!" Hermione wrung her hand, her voice growing shrill. "I didn't want to see it! Oh, Harry's so much cleverer than me, I should have bloody seen what was going to happen …"

"Look, I have to go." Ginny got up slowly. "I have to go – have to go find Luna."

Ginny left Hermione cursing in the corner, and wove her way through the crowds of people. The dead were laid out in rows. People were sobbing. There was her family, still surrounding Fred –

No, she wouldn't think of that now.

Ginny stumbled blindly through the castle.

So the Diary had been a horcrux, contained Voldermort's soul. She should have known.

Memories tugged at the corner of her brain, and she let herself fall into them, her feet slipping on the tiled floors of the castle and tripping over pieces of rubble from fallen in walls and ceilings.

/

Eleven year old Ginny sits on her bed. The Diary is open, its warm, inviting pages fluttering in the breeze from the open window. She is bent over it, pouring out her soul into its white pages.

 _I saw Death. When I was six. My family didn't believe me._

 _I believe you._ _Only a true witch sees Death._ The Diary's perfect handwriting slowly travels over the page. _How many brothers did you say you had, again?_

 _Six, all older._ Ginny sighs. _It's really not fun having so many older brothers, though they're great for playing Quidditch with._

 _And your mother is Molly Weasley, correct?_

 _Yes._

 _I understand now. You are the seventh daughter, and your mother was the first girl in seven generations. Seventh daughter of seventh daughter. You have a unique and special gift. No wonder you had the privilege of seeing Death. What was it like?_

 _It was awful._ Ginny writes the truth, her eyes tearing up at the memory. _I hated it. He looked at me and I wanted to scream, and throw things at him, because he had taken my Grandma._

 _If you had thrown things at him, he would have deserved it._

 _He would have._ Ginny agrees so fervently that her quill breaks in her hand.

She stares at the broken pieces, and something in her breaks, and she cries properly, for the first time in years. Harry doesn't like her and her Grandma is dead and she saw Death.

 _It just isn't fair_ , she writes eventually, after scrummaging for a new quill under her bed.

 _Life isn't fair_ , writes the Diary. _We have to_ make _it fair. Use every opportunity to our advantage._

And Ginny agrees, because she doesn't know any better.

And the Diary smiles back at her – if a book could smile.

/

 _There are swirls. The book screeches._

 _Ink splashes, and fades in middair._

 _It moves and sways, dancing above the fallen Ginny._

 _It snakes its way towards her chest …_

/

Eleven year old Ginny wakes up. Harry – Harry _Potter_ \- is tugging her shoulder, begging her to get up. She manages to sit up. The Chamber, the Chamber of Secrets, is spinning.

She gasps, and hugs Harry, her memories flooding back.

How could she have been such an idiot? And now they are going to die, sitting her in the middle of an awful chamber, dirty and cold.

But no. They aren't going to die.

Death isn't here. She doesn't feel his presence.

She lets go of Harry's neck and squeezes his hand. "We aren't going to die," she says.

Harry smiles wryly. "Good to know. Now, how to get out?"

The memory fades. The image swirls and swirls and fades into black –

/

Ginny came to herself in a corner of a room, sprawled on the floor – she must have tripped. Neville and Luna were kneeling next to her, worried expressions on their faces. Ginny sat up groggily, her head spinning.

She wasn't sure how she had gotten there, or why her wand was in her hand. The abandoned classroom was shut up, the only light streaming in from a crack in the musty curtains. "Are you okay, Ginny?" Luna was saying.

Neville was holding the forgotten vile of Abstract potion from the Potions Classroom. "This fell out of your pocket."

Ginny stared at it blankly, sitting in Neville's hand. It was so dark, swirling in the purple vile.

"Go back to the Room, Gin," Neville was saying. "Lay low till this is all over. You've done enough."

"The Room's destroyed," said Ginny.

"What do you mean, _destroyed_?"

 _Deep breaths,_ she thought _. Work out the next step._

 _Save Harry._

She looked at her hand – it was still shaking, but steadier than before. She pulled herself to her feet and leaned against the wall for a moment. Neville followed her up.

Her wand was heavy in her sweaty palm. She felt its power, felt it fluttering in her fingertips. There was really only one thing to do.

 _I have to save Harry._

Ginny nodded. She pulled herself up and rounded her shoulders.

"What are you going to do?" said Neville. "You can't fight, not like this."

"I have to find Harry."

"Harry? Harry's doing his own thing, Ginny." Neville shook his head. "He wouldn't turn himself in, I know he wouldn't."

Ginny shook her head at him. _He is, though. Right now, as we're wasting our time talking._

"How are you going to find him?" asked Luna, her eyes purely curious.

"I – I don't know." Luna had made a good point. Ginny put her hand to her forehead and thought desperately. "Where did you see him off to, Neville?"

"I was just inside the Doors."

"Okay." _So I was the last to see him._ "He's somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. I just don't know where."

"Why not take the Abstract Potion?" Luna spoke quietly, almost offhand.

Ginny clapped her hands. "Of course! Give it, Neville."

Neville was slow to hand the vile, but Ginny unscrewed it straight away and swirled its contents. "Don't eat anything two hours after taking it," advised Luna. "It should wear off in under an hour. Avoid extreme physical stress."

"I'll try," said Ginny dryly. She lifted the vile to her lips, and jugged it down.

The thick black liquid tasted like dirt, worms, and what she had always imagined troll snot to taste like. "Urgh."

"It takes a moment," said Luna dreamily. "Watch out for the red and green and black ones; they're spells. Everything else is just remnants of jinxes and things that get broken, and peoples' aura. Also, Nargles are particularly attracted to drinkers of Abstract Potion, so always watch your shadow."

"We had better go," said Neville hesitantly. "Get back to cleaning up. Try and stay out of the way for a bit, hey Gin?"

"Neville –" cried Ginny, remembering. "You have to do something. Harry asked me to tell you – you have to kill Nagini. The snake."

"Kill the snake?" Neville's mouth was hanging open, and he shut it hurriedly. "Are you sure?"

"Harry said. It's really important, Neville."

The room started to sway a little. Neville glanced at Luna, who smiled back at him.

"Alright," said Neville. "I'll try – I'll try to kill the thing. Try and stay out of the way, though, okay?"

Ginny nodded, and watched as Neville and Luna carefully unlocked the door, leaving the classroom, the door slightly ajar.

The potion was working already. Colours were becoming a little more dimmed, and the edges of her vision were bright and clear.

Suddenly, a blue spark jerked its way through the open door. It fluttered in the air, before disappearing back through the door.

 _Magic_.

She walked to the door, almost as if in a dream, and peeked through the doorway.

Swirls and sparks of hundreds of colours were darting up and down the passage.

Ginny turned – a spark flew just under her nose. She sneezed. She stretched her hand out, into the passage – and a silver swirl of magic wrapped itself around her arm, smooth as silk, before gliding back down the passage.

Ginny smiled slowly, and began to head towards the Doors, surrounded by magic that ebbed like water when she moved.

/

Everyone was in the Great Hall, and no one noticed when Ginny slipped outside and through the Gates. She glided down the hill, past the battlefield and Hagrid's hut. The magic was growing scarcer and scarcer the further she stepped from Hogwarts, though when she stepped bouts of silver swirls emerged from her feet and her wand.

Ginny stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest and stared upwards at the tall trees. The last time she had been down there at this time of night, she had been sent in for Detention.

Deep ebbs of silver magic swirled inside the Forest. She could feel it in her body; right down to the tips of her toes. She aimed her wand inside and accio'ed a stick. A line of green sparks burst out of her wand, and silver swirls radiated off her body. She almost giggled as the stick landed in her hand.

The swirls grew. Ginny took a deep breath, and stepped inside the Forest.

She had to find Harry.

/

Getting tired is not part of the job description of being death. Ergo, I do not get tired.

Sometimes I wish I did, though. Getting tired is such a luxury; one that I do not have.

Lavender Brown's soul is – surprisingly – not lavender. Instead it is pastel pink, with flecks of grey at the edges.

After taking her away, I examine my checklist.

Up next – Harry Potter.

The boy is in the Forbidden Forest. Another wizard is pointing his wand at him. Harry is so open, so ready for death.

The spell is fired.

The boy falls.

I lean over him, and his soul is different than I had expected.

It is both cold, and warm; wizened and smooth; black and scarlet, and green, dark red, and deep brown.

Such a small, and large, soul. So young, and yet so old.

A contradiction.

I carry him gently away.

/

It wasn't hard to find Harry's trail. Silver swirls from his steps curled around the forest floor, and Ginny even found a small black piece of cloth, hooked on a branch.

Silver swirls of magic ebbed at her ankles as she followed the silver swirls deeper and deeper into the Forest.

At last, she came to a small clearing. The swirls of magic were larger here, the blue joined with red and brown and deep batches of custard-like yellow.

Something made Ginny look down. There in the middle of the clearing was a patch of silver magic, swirling round and round. In the centre there was a gap, and peering down –

There was a little black stone.

Ginny slowly bent and picked it up.

It was strangely warm in her hand. She put it in her pocket, and turned to leave –

And looked straight into the eyes of Death.

/

 _This chapter was written listening to the Stranger Things soundtrack – I'm a little obsessed! Does anyone else watch that show?_

 _As always thanks for reading, hope you have a great day friend!_

 _Review? xx_


	12. 11 - soft stones

Ginny wanted to scream. She wanted to throw things at Death, to destroy him, to hurt him in every way possible.

But she couldn't.

She simply stood, frozen to the spot, unable to move a muscle.

Death was tall. He wore a black cloak which covered his whole body, and under the hood she could just make out bright eyes and a wide mouth.

Memories flooded back. She bit her lip, holding them down.

Ginny stared into the eyes of Death.

Neither said a word.

/

Ginevra Weasley sees me for the second time in the early morning of the second of May.

Practically speaking, humans can't see me.

This was made a rule centuries and centuries ago, when I filed a complaint for uncomfortable workplace conditions. Because the truth is, the eyes of a human haunt me.

They haunt my soul.

Humans aren't supposed to see me, as I said. So it is confusing to me that Ginevra Weasley is looking right at me.

She isn't looking behind me, or past me, or above me.

She is frozen to the spot, and she is looking right at me, into my eyes.

It reminds me of a time, many many years ago, when I met three brothers on a bridge.

 _They_ could see me.

I don't know why they could, and I don't know why Ginevra can, but one thing is for sure –

I, Death, am rather confused.

This isn't part of the job description.

/

The dim eyes were beginning to make Ginny rather dizzy. She could feel the abstract potion beginning to hurt her brain; fuzz was appearing at the corners of her vision and the swirls were growing harsher and harsher. Her forehead throbbed. And yet none of that mattered, because here she was, looking straight at _Death_.

Had he come for her?

She tried to speak, but it came out in a whisper in her dry mouth. "Death?"

Death bowed his head.

She did not expect him to speak, but he did, in a deep, smooth voice. "I must confess, I was not meant to meet you here, Ginevra Weasley."

"You mean – you haven't come for me?"

"You don't look dead to me."

Was that a smile? Had Death just smiled? Ginny shook her head, trying to clear her vision. Dark grey swirls surrounded Death; his magic took its own colour.

"Seventh daughter of seventh daughter. Why can you see me?"

"I – I don't know." Ginny felt like laughing, and so she did, the potion giving her laughter an extra twinkling quality. "Oh Merlin. This can't be happening."

"By all practical laws of the universe, this shouldn't be happening."

And something about the confused way that Death said it made Ginny calm, and breathe. He was just as confused as she.

"I just come back from collecting a soul," said Death, almost to himself, "And I run into a human. Who can see me. But this is not the first time you have seen me, Ginevra Weasley."

"No. That was you I saw when I was six, wasn't it? When you took my Grandma?" Ginny didn't mean to sound accusing, but her deeply set anger leaked out into her voice.

"Yes. Yes, it was me. It was me who took your brother earlier, also. I have been very busy tonight, Ginevra Weasley. Very, very busy. But I can tell you that you are not on my List. You are safe. You should go and stay that way."

Death turned to leave.

He had work to do.

/

I do not wish to talk to this human anymore.

I have souls to collect.

I turn to leave, but she speaks, and I cannot help but answer.

"Who else is on that List?"

"I cannot tell you that, it is against the Rules." I shake my head. "I can, however, tell you who _was_ on it. You brother, Fred Weasley. Such a red and green soul." Ginevra stares at me, hard, and I am slightly unnerved by her blazing look. "I just returned from collecting a younger soul still. Harry Potter."

Ginevra gasps, her mouth in a perfect 'oh' for a split second, before she catches herself and breathes again.

Then:

"I want you to save Harry Potter."

I smile. This poor, poor soul.

"I cannot. I have already carried him away."

She does not understand.

"But – he is still here."

"He isn't."

"He is!"

Why am I arguing with a human?

"Harry Potter is dead, human."

"But I'd know if he was! Especially with the potion. I don't feel it. He's definitely still alive, or part of him is, at least."

"The first stage of grief is denial." I should know _that_. I _am_ Death.

"But – he can't be dead. He's a horcrux. Voldermort's horcrux. He's the last one. He can't be fully dead." I can tell that Ginevra is thinking fast as she speaks. "Voldermort didn't kill him, when he fired the spell. He killed the part of himself. The Horcrux part of himself. Don't you see? Harry should still be alive."

I do not know what to do.

"Are you sure that Harry is a horcrux?"

"Positive!"

I am, to put it bluntly, flabbergasted. Humans cannot lie to me (especially not when they are looking right into my eyes); and this girl is not lying.

"If Voldermort killed Harry," I say, "He would have had to have killed his own soul. The additional soul always dies first in Horcrux Lore."

Ginevra points an accusing finger at me, and her voice is filled with anger.

"You made a mistake."

"No." I shake my head, and pull the List out of my cloak. It is a roll of parchment, seemingly endless, though I know (or hope) that it must end at some point. "The List must have made a mistake." I look closer at Harry's name.

It just says 'Harry Potter'. Ginevra leans over and stares at the List too, and I let her, pointing out Harry's name. There is no asterisk, no "To Be Confirmed". Just Harry's name.

"You have to check," pleads Ginevra. "Please, please bring him back, he wasn't meant to die."

I am confused. The List is never wrong.

"Please."

I look into Ginevra's eyes again – and I instantly regret it.

They are hard, and blazing, and stare right into me.

/

Maybe it was the last dregs of the abstract potion pushing through Ginny's blood, its strength nearly all used up.

But Ginny stared right into Death's soul. And as she looked into his soul, she felt stronger, power surging through her body.

Death's soul was black, with flicks of white, like a Dalmatian. She saw the colour of his soul, and she knew him there, in that moment.

He was just a soul who was doing his job, who followed the rules. Who didn't know what it was like to Love.

And a part of Ginny – just a small part – felt sorry for him.

Ginny said "Please."

She pleaded with her eyes, and with all of her soul. She felt Death let go a little bit, and she kept pushing and pushing and pushing …

Death turned and let go completely of his resolve. Just like that, the connection broke, and she couldn't see his soul anymore. She felt like she was going to faint, and she steadied herself, putting her feet a little bit further apart, watching as the silver swirls at her ankles slowly dissolved as the potion wore off.

Death gave a great, great sigh.

/

There is something you have to understand about me.

I cannot stand breaking the rules.

Even thinking about the fact that the List made a mistake gives me goosebumps.

But here is an opportunity. An opportunity to take what is mine.

I simply _have_ to take it.

"I will help you. But on one condition."

/

"What?"

"You return what is mine."

"And what is yours?" Ginny stared hard at Death. "None of us are yours, not really. No souls belong to you."

"You are right," said Death. Ginny blinked. "No souls belong to me. I am but a tour guide, taking souls from one place to another. No. It is not souls that I am seeking."

"What, then?"

"The three Hallows. They have caused enough damage. I want them back."

Ginny stared. "The _hallows_? What –"

"The ones from your children's story," interrupted Death. "The cloak and the stone and the wand."

"But that's just a fairy tale –"

"No. The Hallows are mine. I wish them to be given back to me."

Ginny stared, hard, making sure he was serious. Death stared back, and she bit her lip with a nod. "Alright. Take me with you to make sure that you return Harry's soul, and I will return the Hallows to you."

"If you do not return them," said Death, his voice as smooth as silk, "Then I will return and take back _your_ soul – and the boy's. Then there shall be no return ticket."

Ginny nodded without hesitating.

Death bowed his head, and held out a hand; pale, and almost transparent.

Ginny took it. It was surprisingly warm.

And she gasped as she was whisked through the air, as Death hurried through the forest, Ginny gliding along behind.

/

 _hey sorry for being mia - I'll chuck a couple of chapters up now :)_


	13. 12 - deathly sparks

Ginny was placed behind a bush in the shadows. Harry was lying on the ground, metres away from her, not breathing. He was dead.

Yet, he wasn't.

Ginny knew quite distinctly that he was alive.

She held her breath as the Death Eaters cheered, sending up sparks into the air.

Death glided away into the trees, disappearing into different shadows.

Harry's glasses lay next to his face, on the ground. His eyes were open, staring blankly at the space in front of him. His arms and legs were splayed around him. He wasn't breathing.

He was dead.

And yet, Ginny was quite, quite sure that he was alive.

He had to be.

Surely part of him held on.

Death appeared out of nowhere, and, ignored by the Death Eaters, leaned over Harry. Something green and warm and wonderful slipped out of his arms, and into Harry's being.

And Harry gave a little shudder, and his eyes were wild, staring about him.

He was alive!

Ginny felt like singing and crying all at once. She did none of these things, however; she simply watched Harry as he closed his eyes, and slowed his breathing until it was barely noticeable. He was silent.

A women, whom Ginny vaguely recognised as Draco Malfoy's mother, stepped forward towards Harry. All at once, Ginny's hand was seized by something warm, and she was thrust away, gliding away from Harry and the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord.

/

I gently pull Ginny away. She is in slight shock, but I see this all the time in my line of work, so I pull her along.

I deposit her at the top of the Astronomy tower.

It is cold up here, but the sun is rising, so she will soon warm up. I stand over her as she leans against the wall. She is breathing heavily, her head tucked between her legs. I am not sure what to do.

I know I have things to do, but I don't want to leave her.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

/

"Pardon?" Ginny pulled her head up and stared at Death. He looked almost concerned, leaning over her awkwardly like that.

"Do you need anything?"

"Just a bit queasy," said Ginny, forcing herself to sit up a little straighter. Her eyes and head ached, and she noticed with a shock that the magic in the air was gone. The abstract potion had finally worn off.

"Thank you, by the way."

Death gave a jolt. "I beg your pardon?"

"For saving Harry."

"It was only fair," said Death, obviously shaken. "The List made a mistake. Besides, you will bring me the Hallows, won't you. That'll make up for the extra trip."

"Yeah, I guess they will. But thanks anyway."

Death shook his head slowly. "I don't think I've ever been thanked before. It's a new feeling."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "I don't imagine anyone would thank you for death."

"No, I suppose not." And Death sighed. "Are you sure there isn't anything I can do?"

There were lots of things that Ginny wanted, but none that Death could give.

She shook her head.

"I suppose it all has to do with Love, then, doesn't it," said Death. "I'm hopeless with Love. It really isn't my area of expertise."

"I can see why," snorted Ginny.

"But it's important," said Death. "Death and Love are intertwined. Death means nothing without Love, and Love – well, without the threat of death, it doesn't mean anything much."

Ginny frowned. "That isn't strictly true."

Death drew himself up, obviously extremely offended. "Well, I'm sure you with your sixteen years of life know so much more than me!"

"I don't," said Ginny, very carefully. "I just think that Love has more meaning than the fear of Death. There's the fear of heaps of other things – loss of love, loss, hardships – and also just love itself has meaning, you know?"

Death shook his head. "You know nothing, young one." Ginny heard a smile in his voice. "It is very quaint to see a human argue with death itself."

"But you're not death itself. You're just a … a being? Is that what you are?"

"Something like that," said Death after a moment.

"You're not death. You just cart people from earth, to … to wherever's next."

"That's enough," said Death, and then he sighed. A big deep sigh that shook the tower and made Ginny quake in her boots.

"I'm sorry," said Ginny.

"No," said Death. Ginny imagined his face beneath that black hood – he was grim and a little sad. "You are right. I do just cart people from place to place. It's a little dull … but it's the life I have."

He gave another sigh.

Then he shook his head.

"On that note, it is time for me to return to my work. Return the Hallows where we met in the Forest. I will await you there when you have them."

"Hopefully sometime soon," said Ginny with a smile.

"Hopefully soon," agreed Death. Then he smiled. "Don't hold onto them for too long. As soon as you have them, you must return the Hallows or I will take yours and the boy's souls instead." He disappeared into the night.

Just like that … gone.

Ginny stood up on shaky legs, and turned to the door of the tower that led down to the staircase. It opened with a push, and the dark shadows of the staircase stared at her, ready to eat her up.

She took a deep breath, and closed the door behind her.

/

Luna stood by the statue of Salazer Slytherin in the courtyard, somehow still intact while the other three statues lay smashed at their pedestals. Hermione and Ron were holding hands desperately, leaning against the statue.

Death Eaters were approaching. They could be seen at the very edge of the forest, creeping forward in a low dark cloud.

Mcgonagall and Kingsley were running around, shouting orders and telling people to prepare.

Luna shook her head. She knew that it was all for naught.

"Luna?"

Luna turned, and it was Ginny, her eyes red as she stumbled towards her.

Hermione was up in a second, wrapping Ginny in a hug. "Are you okay? Where were you? We were all so worried!"

"I'm fine," said Ginny. Something haunted the corners of her eyes.

"Something's different about you," said Luna. "Did you see something?"

"Just Death," said Ginny, smiling.

Luna tilted her head. She had had her suspicions before this, but it did explain everything. Ginny's moments of being spaced out, the haunted look in her eyes. Having seen Death would explain everything.

"Go home," Ron was saying to Ginny. "Go home and get safe. Please Gin!"

"Ron, I wouldn't be any safer there!"

"Gin!"

"Ron! I - I can't go. Neville has to kill the snake. And if he can't -"

"Let us do it!"

"She's right. Let her stay, Ron," said Hermione. "Look how close they are."

The Death Eaters were passing Hagrid's hut.

"It's Hagrid." Luna pointed a pale arm towards the front of the dark procession.

Hagrid was leading the way, openly weeping. They could almost hear his tears. He was carrying a bundle in his arms, and it was coming closer –

"IT'S HARRY!" yelled someone in the crowd.

Hermione gasped, and Ron yelled. It was Harry, his arms draping out of Hagrid's grasp. Hermione dropped to her knees. "No."

Ginny knelt down next to Hermione, and held her hand. "It's okay," she said, and she smiled. "He's still alive."

"How do you know?" demanded Hermione.

"Trust me," said Ginny. She looked at her brother. "He's fine."

Her haunted, blazing eyes made Luna trust her. "I believe you," Luna said, and she helped both Ginny and Hermione to their feet.

Hermione took Luna and Ron's hand. Ginny held Luna's. The four of them stood, ready, as a silence spell was cast with a whoosh …

And the Death Eaters arrived.

/

There is a body caught under the stairwell. It was forgotten, stuffed there by a laughing Death Eater hours ago.

The soul finally lets go.

What a golden soul.

I pick it up, and hold it close in my arms.

I glide away.

My work is almost over.

The sun begins to rise.

/

Neville seized the sword, and gave a great swipe with a yell.

A snake's head fell, and a great wail came up from the crowd and the ground and the Dark Lord himself.

Something inside Ginny started to shake, and she dropped to her knees without realising.

The last horcrux was destroyed. Voldermort was going to die.

She was shaking uncontrollably, and someone yelled "Where's Harry?" Ginny raised her eyes – Harry was indeed gone!

The Death Eaters dispersed, and spells began to fire. Ginny was pulled to her feet by Luna. "You okay?"

Something in Ginny clicked, and her eyes were wide. Wide and deadly.

Something made Luna shiver.

Ginny fired a spell, and it hit a Death Eater in the back, making him fall over face first.

"Let's kill some Death Eater," said Ginny, and Luna nodded.

/

"You cannot win, Harry Potter," said Voldermort.

"I already have." Harry's hand was steady as he pointed the Elder Wand at Voldermort. "All of your horcruxes are destroyed. You are defenceless."

Voldermort was dismayed for a moment, his slitted eyes searching frantically through the crowd, his wand arm shaking slightly.

Then he stopped, and looked back at Harry. He smiled slowly.

"Very well, Harry Potter. Very well."

Harry aimed, and fired.

He did not miss.

/

 _THIS chapter was written listening exclusively to dodie :) I'm a little obsessed with her music!_

 _Alrightiho, the next chapter is going to be really important, so keep an eye out! Thanks so much for reading, you guys are the best :))))_

 _Review? xx_


	14. 13 - whoops

Harry felt like he was floating. Ron and Hermione were hugging him, and countless other wizards and witches that he had never seen before in his life were shaking his hand. And Harry himself was floating, trying to comprehend what he had just done.

It was over.

It didn't take long for a sense of urgency to settle on the castle. Kingsley took charge, sending owls out to the world telling news of the defeat, sending out aurors to try and ambush remaining Death Eaters.

Harry turned back to reality, to Ron and Hermione and all the dead souls that were waiting his attention and his sorrow. But he shook his head to them, and held the Elder wand clutched in his hand.

Ron and Hermione gave a sad smile. Hermione took his hand. "You did it," she said.

"We did it," said Harry. He looked down at the wand in his hand, and the power it held made his fingers tingle.

"You could keep it, mate," said Ron, almost hopefully.

Harry hesitated, and then shook his head.

Hermione beamed with pride. "Well, you'd better pop it back then."

"Back to Dumbledore," echoed Harry. "I suppose that's the right thing to do."

He pulled the cloak out of his pocket. It was surprisingly still clean; free of holes and burn marks. "Let's go!"

It was difficult to fit the three of them under it, but nobody noticed three pairs of ankles creeping through the dust and rubble of the castle halls – everyone was too caught up in their grief and busyness. Long years of night-time wanderings were remembered as they crept down the stairs in sync, their feet catching on pieces of rubble and broken corners.

They had just left the castle and were heading through the courtyard to the bridge, when "Harry!"

The hiss came from just behind them. Harry, Ron and Hermione froze, not daring to turn around.

"I can see you're there!"

It was Ginny. Harry gave a laugh and tore off the cloak, leaving Ron and Hermione looking rather sheepish. Harry sprinted towards her, and she ran towards him, and they caught each other in a hug.

"You did it," she whispered in his ear. "I'm so, so proud."

Harry said nothing, squeezing her tighter. Then he let go, and took her hand. "There's something I have to do."

"Let me come," she said, smiling faintly.

He hesitated, and looked at Ron and Hermione. They were holding hands and Hermione was grinning, clearly proud of the two of them.

"Come on mate," said Ron.

Harry smiled at Ginny then, and she smiled back, almost clinging to him as the four of them left the courtyard and crossed the path down to the Forest.

They were passing Hagrid's hut – which was now a smoking pile on the ground – and the ground was full of holes, remnants of Death Eater cackles and screams of children. The wind blew through the shaved grass. Ginny asked Harry, "What is it you need to do?"

Harry explained, softly so Hermione wouldn't hear, "You remember when you told me that story, last year, the one about the three brothers? And Death?"

Ginny clutched his arm, squeezing it tight. "Yes."

"Well, it turns out that Dumbledore's wand is actually the Elder Wand. The one from the story. And I got it off him, but we're returning it, and – Ginny?"

Ginny had stopped, frozen, several steps behind Harry. Her head was down and the wind was whipping her hair in her face.

"Come on Gin, you can't come with us if you're going to lag," called Ron from the front.

Hermione called, "Ginny? Are you okay?"

Ginny's head whipped up, and she ran to Harry's side, tugging on his sleeve. "Please, Harry! Are you sure it's the Wand? Are you completely utterly sure?"

"Yes," said Harry, raising his eyebrows. "It just killed Voldermort, you know."

"You're sure?"

"Yes!"

"Well, then – I need it."

"You what?" Harry grinned.

Hermione had turned around from next to Ron. "You can't use it, Ginny," she said, matter-of-factly. "It's far too powerful."

"I don't need it to use it," cried Ginny. "I don't. I just really really need it. Please Harry!"

Harry started to laugh, but then stopped when he realised she was being completely serious. Her face was pale with her efforts to convince him.

"Umm… why?"

"I'll die if I don't get it! Please, Harry, you have to trust me. Please!"

"Listen, Ginny, it's been a really long day and I can't give it to you. I have to give it back to Dumbledore, and –"

"You can't! I need it!"

"Do you know what," said Harry, severely annoyed. He sometimes forgot that Ginny was a year younger than him. No wonder she was acting so immature. "Hermione, give me your wand please."

"Why, Harry?"

"Because I'm going to destroy it. I'm going to destroy the Elder Wand."

Ginny let out a shriek, so unlike her that Harry froze. "You can't do that! You can't destroy it! It's not your right!"

"Ginny –"

"Just give it to me!" she shrieked.

"Ginny!" cried Ron. "What's wrong with you?"

Something snapped, and suddenly Ginny was pointing her wand at Harry's chest.

Hermione gave a little scream. "Ginny!"

"Ginevra Weasley, put the wand down!" demanded Ron, but he didn't sound very demanding, for fear was creeping into his tone.

Ginny's eyes were wide; she was pale as a ghost, and her red hair was whipping around her head in the wind.

"Give me the Elder Wand," said Ginny, something unearthly seeping into her voice.

Her wand arm was steady as she pointed it at Harry.

"What's got into you Gin?" demanded Ron.

"Put the wand down!" shrieked Hermione.

"Are you sure?" said Ginny again, in that unearthly tone.

Her wand was pointed right at Harry's heart.

"Impedimenta!" yelled Hermione, whipping out her wand in a heartbeat. Ginny deflected the spell like it was nothing, and the Smartest Witch of The Age's wand clattered to Ginny's feet.

Harry was frozen, unable to stop staring at the tip of the wand pointing straight at his heart. He was barely aware of Ron's wand landing at Ginny's feet too, and the Elder Wand quivered in his back pocket.

Not taking his eyes of Ginny's wand, he slowly drew the Elder Wand out of his pocket.

"I have to do this," said Ginny, deadly calm.

"I don't want to fight you Gin."

"Don't then."

Ginny whipped her wand so quickly that Harry barely had time to throw up his shield. Her spell shattered it in a second, and soon spells were being thrown like lightning bolts.

Harry didn't want to hurt Ginny, but even if he had he would have found it difficult. She was firing spells like he had never seen her throw them before. She had always been good at defense, but surely not this good …

He threw a spell at her and she deflected it without a thought. There was something almost unearthly in the way she held her wand and held herself. Her eyes glinted with some sort of emotion that he couldn't place.

Before he knew it, his shield was being battered by stunning after stunning spell. He struggled, feeling Ron and Hermione use wandless magic behind him, all three buckling under the weight of the spells …

And then it was over.

The Elder Wand was flying through the air.

It landed quite firmly in Ginny's palm.

The Ginny-Who-Wasn't-Quite-Ginny said, "It is mine now."

There was a crack, and she disappeared, apparating away from the scene and into the unknown.

The weight of the spells gone, Harry sunk to his knees.

His head was buzzing.

Harry Potter had had a very long day.

And as Hermione wrapped him in a hug and Ron shouted his sister's name into the void, he wondered if all his luck had finally run out.

/

 _And that concludes part I!_

 _*clap* this *clap* will *clap* all *clap* make *clap* sense *clap* soon_

… _*clap*_

 _Let's just all remember that (a) harry potter is very extra and dramatic,,,,,, and (b) so is ginny._

 _Thanks for reading, friends! Reviews are my favourite and I will keep good care of them, promise :))_


	15. 14 - a fogged mirror

**Part II**

 **ten months later**

/

Yaxley folded his arms, leaned back in his chair, and frowned at the blonde girl in front of him. With short blonde hair, a straight nose, blue eyes, and a fierce glare, she looked exactly like the assassin she was meant to be.

"21 Cherry St, London," said Yaxley. "Got it?"

"Got it."

"There's a girl there. Lives with her grandmother and some other relatives, but you won't miss her – she's got brown hair and is really tall. Pretty young, about your age. She's big into the War Assistance League. It would change everything if she was to… leave."

"I understand."

"Stupid WAL's." Yaxley cursed under his breath. "Just do the job, okay? No hesitations. It's gotta be clean and you gotta get out."

"I always do."

"Get going." Yaxley waved her out of the office. "See if you can beat your record. Reckon you can beat 18 minutes?"

"It was 17." The blonde woman narrowed her eyes at Yaxley. As always, he couldn't help being a little unnerved by her ice-cold eyes. "18 is Charlie's, and you know it. I beat his record ages ago!"

"Whatever, just get out." Yaxley shook his head, and the blonde gave a little smile as she pushed open the door.

She turned in the dusty hall, and apparated directly outside 21 Cherry St.

It was a bright, cheery street, full of middle-class muggles and vintage cars. Children laughed and played, and several mothers stood on the footpath, gossiping loudly.

21 Cherry street was just like every other house – tall and neat, with cheerful pot plants on the windowsills. The blonde woman knocked on the door.

No one answered, so she took her wand out of her pocket – took a little glance around her, to make sure no muggles were looking – and whispered " _Alohomora_ ".

The lock opened with a click. Another quick glance, and the woman was inside.

The hall was dimly lit, shadows behind the hatstand. Pictures adorned the walls. The blonde woman crept silently past them, ignoring all sentimentality, ready to get the job done.

There was a noise from the door on the right, sounds of talking. A laugh trickled out. The blonde woman hesitated outside the closed door. She took a step back, evaluating the situation. Taking out her mask, she fitted it carefully onto her face, and slipped behind the hatstand, waiting in the shadows.

On the wall opposite the hatstand were photos, framed with love, hanging up on the wall. The blonde woman couldn't help looking at them.

Her blue eyes were cold as she gazed at the framed memories.

The pictures were so happy –

The photo in the middle was of two girls, one with brown hair, one with red, both swinging on an old swingset.

It was so familiar …

The blonde woman supressed a gasp.

Just on cue, the door on the right opened and shut. A brown haired, tall young woman – no older than seventeen – stepped out, smiling to herself.

The blonde woman stepped out from behind the hatstand. The brown haired girl turned.

The blonde was frozen in place, her wand held out.

The two witches stared at each other, and the brown haired woman bit her lip and raised her hands.

"Ella – Stilt?"

"Yes?" Ella's hands were shaking slightly in the air, but she looked the blonde right in the eye.

"I –"

"What do you want from me?" Ella said, her eyes empty. "You have already taken everything. There is nothing left to take."

Ella gave a little whimper.

Something was moving in the blonde woman's very being. She looked at her hands; they were shaking, the wand held out in trembling fingers. Something inside of her was quivering – and then it clicked, and she shook with the effort not to collapse. A pain soared through her chest, and she gave a great cry.

Her cold blue eyes filled with tears.

Ella held out her arms as the blonde woman dropped her wand arm. "Aunt Meg!" she shrieked.

The door on the right opened, and three witches came bustling in – they screamed at the site of a witch in a mask in their hallway –

And Ginny Weasley gave a great effort, turned, and apparated away.

 _I can't kill Ella._

/

Harry Potter was having a very well-earned rest.

It was his first afternoon off from Auror Training in a week, and he figured he might as well take it for himself. He mixed himself a mug of hot chocolate – he had rediscovered the muggle drink recently, and was a little obsessed – and made a nest on the couch in his living room.

The room itself was a lot more comfortable than it had been when the Order had had it as their headquarters. Harry had had all of 12 Grimmauld Place redecorated, and the living room was now painted grey, with a cheerful red surrounding the fireplace. Bookshelves adorned the walls, and a poster of the Chudley Cannons hanging next to the window, which was half open, the curtains waving in the breeze.

Harry spread out on the couch, with pillows behind his head and a blanket at his feet, and opened up his book. Mcgonagall had sent it to him; it was called Special Jinxes in Defense and was all about speciality jinxes, taught in a comedic manner.

He was just getting into the book when there was a "Is anyone there?".

"Hermione!" Harry flung off his blanket and hurried over to the fireplace. "Come right on through!"

"I can't now I'm afraid, Harry." Hermione's face, grotesquely made up of embers and logs, shook its head. "I have to floo people round. Right, here's the deal. I wanted to organise a catch up with all our old friends – people we haven't seen in a while, you know. Luna, Neville, Parvati, Seamus and Dean – and of course you and me and Ron and George. All those sorts of people, you know? We'd do a dinner – at my house. It's just been so long since I've seen all of us together at once, and I thought it would be a nice idea."

"Sure, that sounds great," said Harry, when he could get a word in. "When is it?"

"Well, I want to make sure that all of us could go, so I'm flooing round to see when everyone's free. When are you free, Harry?"

"Um – not for the next week. I only have Wednesday afternoons off for the next month," said Harry. He was free most evenings – Auror training was intense, but not _that_ intense – yet he knew he would struggle to socialise if he had been out shooting spells all day.

"Right," said Hermione, looking very disappointed. "That narrows things down a bit. I'll check with the others. Stay right here, okay?"

"Sure, sure."

It was half an hour later, when Harry was just thinking about going upstairs to make himself another hot chocolate, when Hermione flooed again.

"Harry!"

"Yes!"

"It won't work for at least two months!" Harry could tell that Hermione was wringing her hands, and the lines on her forehead grew deep. "Parvati can't do any of the days that I can, and George is absolutely run off his feet with the shop – though he says he'd make it work, the likelihood that he'll be able to make it is dim – he'd be very late, regardless –"

"What about tonight?" said Harry.

"To-tonight?"

"Yeah," said Harry, surprised at himself for suggesting it. "Tonight works for me!"

"But – but my apartment's a mess, and I haven't cooked a thing –"

"That's fine," said Harry quickly, avoiding mention of Hermione's questionable cooking skills. "We'll go to a pub or something. How about the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Sure," said Hermione. "Sure. I'll – I'll go check with the others. It's just so soon!"

"So?"

"So – okay, I'll go check." Hermione disappeared, and Harry gave a little grin.

/

She landed in her room with a thump; it was cold, just how she liked it. Cold, and quiet.

She flopped on her bed, face first.

 _Idiot_.

It was just a matter of time before Yaxley would call her downstairs for the briefing, and she would either have to tell him what had happened, or be told off because he already knew.

She wasn't quite sure what had happened. One moment she had been pointing her wand, about to finish the job – and the next, she was running out onto the street, half-forgotten memories of Before clawing at the edges of her mind.

Memories of red hair. Of the person she had been.

She didn't know who that person was; only that she was wrong. She remembered only moments after being saved from the Before.

She had been cold. Cold, starving, exhausted. The woman who had opened the door had peered down at her, glaring fiercely. She had pleaded for safety – and it was granted to her.

Her life was stripped, and she was given a new life. The Before was removed. There was only the Now, and the Future.

The fact that memories from Before were seeping through could only mean that something was very, very wrong.

The blonde girl turned over and faced the ceiling; glaring at the cracks.

She had been such an idiot.

Why did the Before _have_ to seep through? Why hadn't she killed Stilt when she'd had the chance?

She wasn't ready to face Yaxley yet.

She dragged herself up to her feet, and apparated away –

Straight into the arms of thugs.

/

Harry Potter arrived at the Pub and sat down next to Ron, who clapped him on the back. "How are you going mate?"

"Good, just been really busy with training."

"I don't see how you do it." Ron shook his head. He had quit two weeks into the Auror course, and was now running a small ice-cream store around the corner from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"I just grit my teeth and do it, I guess." Harry laughed dryly, and winked at Parvati. She threw a napkin at him across the table.

"Watch it," she said, before taking up the drinks menu. "What are you guys going to order?"

"I'll have a firewhiskey," said Ron immediately. "Seamus?"

"I guess I'll have that too."

"So will I," said Dean.

"I'll have a butterbeer," said Neville.

"Me too," said Luna softly, before turning back to folding her napkin into some sort of dragon.

Suddenly Dean slammed his hands down on the table. "THAT'S the word! Engulfed."

Parvati rolled her eyes and got up to order for them. Seamus shook his head at Dean. "Seriously, you forgot the word 'engulfed'?"

"It's not like it's a common word," protested Dean, before explaining. "I was talking about how a bird on my way to work was _engulfed_ by another bird. It was honestly the weirdest thing."

"You made it up," protested Seamus.

"Birds don't eat birds," said Neville. "You must have imagined it."

"I'm telling you, this bird was engulfed. Absolutely engulfed."

"Sorry I'm late!" Hermione bustled in and plunked down on the other side of Ron, giving him a kiss on the cheek, her bushy hair surrounding her face like a cloud. "I had to finish up a paper for work. How are we all?"

They all nodded and obliged Hermione by telling her how their work and studies were going. Parvati bustled back with a tray of drinks in tow, and handed them out, before giving Hermione a polite hug.

"I can't explain it, but it was absolutely ridiculous," Dean was saying.

"Birds don't engulf other birds, _please_ don't be ridiculous." Hermione shook her head.

"When birds eat other birds, it's a sign of bad news," said Luna, rather absently.

"Well, I'm honestly not surprised," cut in Dean. "Because it was really darn weird."

Hermione barely refrained from rolling her eyes, and Parvati casually said, "Does anyone know anything about the Moon's Phases?"

"We went to the same school, Parvati. I know what a moon phase is," scoffed Ron.

Harry suddenly felt a great sadness – something about this conversation made him miss … something. He got up suddenly. "Bathroom," he mumbled at Ron, who moved his chair back to let him out.

The bathroom was outside the Inn, in a side entrance. He opened the door and stepped inside.

The men's bathroom was empty, smelling vaguely of vomit and sad thoughts.

Harry stared at himself in the dusty mirror for a moment, until his face became blurry at the edges and started to spin a little. He squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head. "Air," he said out loud. "I need air."

He stepped out of the bathroom, outside – and straight into a group of thugs.

/

 _Hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Part II!_

 _this chapter was written listening to the "Dear Evan Hansen" soundtrack – I don't know the plot but I know the music!_

 _Review? xx_


	16. 15 - you done messed up

_chapter 15 - you done messed up_

Now, it isn't generally good to make assumptions about people. Especially when you've barely met. But with the fierce looks, the language that was coming out of their mouths, and the woman that was being prodded with thick, stumpy wands, it was pretty safe to assume that these people were not the friendly type.

"Stay back, or I shoot!" the woman was yelling, and men were shouting, and Harry seized his wand.

"Get away from her!" he yelled, aiming his wand at the crowd, over the noise. "Get away!"

No one heeded him, and the woman shrieked again. It was dark, too dark; Harry couldn't see what was going on.

Barely thinking, Harry ran forward and tried to pull the people apart. Someone elbowed him in the ribs. The woman screamed, a sound so familiar that Harry's heart burst. He sent spells into the crowd, and they were pushed apart with a jolt.

The men paused for a moment, staring at Harry pointing his wand at them – then apparated away.

The woman was collapsed on the ground, her short blonde hair splaying about her shoulders, her face in her hands.

Harry stepped closer. She was more of a girl than a woman; he saw that now – she couldn't be more than nineteen. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Her voice was harsh, and she was on her feet in an instant, wand in hand.

She froze, staring at him and his scar. "Harry – Harry Potter?" Her voice was a harsh whisper.

"That's me! Are you sure you're okay? Do you want me to call someone, or –"

"No, no, it's fine." She glared fiercely at him, and adjusted her coat sleeves.

Harry raised his eyebrows slightly. _What a thank you._ "Are you sure?"

"Positive." The woman gave a firm nod, and bent to pick up her hat.

Harry seized it before she could; it was brown and obviously carefully made. He dusted it off, and held it out to her. She snatched it from him, and set it firmly on her head with a huff.

"Can I at least get your name?" he said, exasperated.

She glared at him for a moment, considering. Then: "Eve."

Harry held out his hand to shake. She ignored it. "Just … Eve?"

"Just Eve!"

"Who were those men?"

"Just gits. And I could handle myself just fine, thank you."

"I could see that," said Harry wryly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine, thank you." The woman – Eve – straightened her front, and pulled out her wand. "I'd better be off then."

Harry wasn't quite sure why he said it - "Would you – would you like to come in with me?" – but he did.

"Into the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Yeah." He smiled despite himself. "I've got some friends in there, but they'd love to meet you!"

Eve scoffed and glared all at once. "Good Merlin, no. I've got things to do." She raised her wand to apparate.

"Wait – are you crying?"

Water was dripping down the girl's face; slipping from her blue eyes and splashing on the pavement.

She looked genuinely surprised, and felt her wet face.

"I don't cry," she said in wonder. Salt water splashed on the ground; her mascara left streaks on her surprised cheeks.

"Are you – can I buy you a drink? Or something?" Harry took a little step forward.

With a scowl, she clutched her wand, and cried, "Goodbye!"

With a turn and a bang, she was gone.

 _Well_ , thought Harry. And then, because there was no one to hear him say it: "Well."

He turned, and headed back inside.

/

"That was a long bathroom break," whispered Ron, raising his eyebrows. "Are you okay, mate?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Harry, and sighed.

/

Anna's eyes were blue and cold; cold as cold could be.

Yaxley shuffled the papers on his desk, deadly calm. The silence was thick. "What happened."

"I – I couldn't kill Ella. There were other people there, they fought me off." Anna looked downcast and fierce at the same time, daring Yaxley to disagree.

"And why didn't you come straight back?"

"I –"

"Yes?"

"I couldn't work out what to do, so I hid. I'm sorry."

Yaxley shook his head. "Well, Stilt has gone into hiding now, so there's no way of finishing her off. At least she's out of the way. Still, you botched the job, Anna."

"I'm sorry." It came out in a fierce growl.

"Good."

Anna tapped her fingernails on the desk. They were painted red; as always. "Anything else?"

"Go to Esther's. Pick up some Distanom Potion; come straight back."

Anna bowed her head, and rose to leave.

"And Anna?"

"Yes?"

"Stay safe."

She bowed her head. "Yes sir."

/

Harry Potter always used a muggle bus to get to work. He had never taken a bus during his school days, but it was a way of connecting him to a society that he still felt part of. As he sat on his seat, looking around at all the university students and business men and gossiping mothers, he remembered what he was fighting for.

Of course, it was also a way to get to work without arousing attention from the press.

The bus was almost empty today, for the first time in a long time. Harry leant his head on the scratched window, letting his brain thump to the beat of the wheels – every now and then a large jolt would bang his head against the window – it would hurt – and then he would carefully place his head back again. It was a game of chance, which he always lost.

There was a particularly large jolt as the bus screeched to a sudden stop. _Merlin, this driver can't drive_ , thought Harry as he rubbed the side of his head ruefully.

The doors of the bus opened – and in walked Eve.

Harry sat up immediately, hoping to catch her eye. He crossed his fingers in his lap and sat up as tall as possible.

Eve nearly fell over as the bus lurched away – and turned to where Harry was sitting.

She took a glance at him, froze – then turned and sat right at the front of the bus, as far away from Harry as possible.

Harry frowned, and ran his fingers through his hair.

/

She hadn't intended on seeing Harry Potter on the bus.

Especially not on her way to pick up a potion which had the peculiar side effect of shrinking inner organs.

She remembered the uncontrollable water falling from her eyes, back outside the Leaky Cauldron, and shook her head.

It was ridiculous.

She didn't cry; she never had – at least, not since _Before_.

Anna stared at herself in the mirror, which hung above the dresser in her room. It had a golden frame, textured by Goblins hundreds of years ago. Just like everything else in the Malfoy Manor, it was very expensive and very old.

Her fingers tightened on the edge of her dresser, and she glared at her reflection.

If the Dark Lord knew that she had cried, he would be incredibly disappointed.

If he knew that she had let Stilt go – oh dear. She didn't want to think how angry he would be.

 _Idiot_.

She had to be strong; she had to do the job.

She couldn't be afraid.

 _No more tears._

She glided to her wardrobe – the gilded, wooden cupboard was twice as tall as her, and she opened it with a bang.

She pried up the loose bottom. The little hidden compartment already hid something; a wand that she had been clutching when she was saved. Her old wand.

Next to it sat a little tin with _Bert's Biscuits_ on the front; the sticker peeling slightly at the edges. Inside, she knew, was a black stone – she assumed it had some sort of significance, as when you looked into it, your heart started aching desperately for things lost, and you could stare at it for hours without noticing.

It was the only thing in her pocket when she had been saved.

She would give it to the Dark Lord when he arrived, along with the wand.

She was saving them, as a tribute. The last parts of her old life. A stone and a wand.

To prove that she was finally and completely his.

 _No more tears._

 _/_

"Anna." Yaxley took a swig of the mug at his desk, and slammed it down again with a smack of his lips. "Your next mission has come through."

"Yes?" Anna prepared herself for something trivial, given her previous failure – keeping the toilets clean, perhaps. Maybe even a lookout on a torture mission.

"You are to tail someone in the Ministry. Keep track of her every move. Become as close to her as possible. Become her bestest bestie in the whole world. Be a leech." Yaxley gave a grim smile.

"But – " Anna shook her head slowly. "I can't."

"What d'ya mean, you can't?"

"I botched up the last one so badly – "

"Anna." Yaxley's fist banged on the table so hard they both jumped. "You haven't heard the best part yet. The bestest of the bestest part."

"What?"

"The Dark Lord _himself_ assigned this to you."

Anna realised her mouth was open, and shut it quickly. "Pardon?"

"That's right." Yaxley licked his lips, relishing her surprise. "He wants you. Merlin knows why – we've got far better spies, goodness knows – but he wants you."

Anna stared. "I haven't even met him yet! He knows who I am?"

"Of course he does," snapped Yaxley. "Of course he bloody knows who you are! He knows all of us by name. And he wants _you_ , for whatever reason best known to himself."

"Alright." Anna drew herself up, sitting as tall as she could. Her blue eyes snapped of cold resolve. "What do I do?"

Yaxley flicked a file across the desk.

"Her name's Hermione Granger. She's high up in the Ministry; deals with Muggle relations. Friends with Potter in the War. Your job is to make her so heavily reliant on _you_ that she'll hate everyone else. Be subtle and clever about it. We need information from her, and you're our way in."

Anna looked up from the file, and gave a cold shrug. "Seems easy enough."

"Believe me, Anna," said Yaxley, with a thin-lipped smile. "It had better be."

* * *

 _thanks for waiting for me, friends! currently listening to cityalight's latest album - how good!_


	17. 16 - interviewin'

**16 - interviewin'**

Hermione tapped her fingers on her desk and checked her pocket watch. _One minute to go_. She adjusted her ink bottle in the corner and sat up straight.

There was a sharp _rat-tap-tap_ at the door. The clock struck ten.

Hermione gave a small smile, and ticked off _Punctual_ on her clipboard. "Come in!"

The door opened, and in walked a smartly dressed witch with a friendly smile. "Miss Granger?"

"Hermione, please." Hermione stood up to shake hands over the desk. "Do take a seat. Anna, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. Thank you." The witch sat down at the seat opposite the desk, and adjusted her robes. She had short blonde hair, and good dress sense, as Hermione noted with satisfaction. "Thank you so much for calling me in!"

"Thank you so much for coming in at such short notice! After my receptionist abandoned me two weeks ago, I must confess I've been flooded with work." Hermione smiled at the witch, who smiled back. "I can see from your papers that you have experience in office work and speech writing?"

"Yes, I worked in Belgium as an intern after graduating." Anna smiled, her blue eyes earnest. "I did a lot of work for Public relations there; presenting a good face to the public, and sharing information. I did simple office work at first, but then they moved me up to Public Relations. I have a lot of experience in all fields."

"I see. May I ask how long you worked there?"

"Two years. I've just recently moved back to England, as the War seems to have quietened down now."

Hermione sighed. "Yes, the War made a lot of changes for many of us."

"It did indeed," said Anna softly. They shared a sad smile. Hermione ticked the _experience_ box on her clipboard.

"What about education? I see from your papers that you were homeschooled?"

"Yes, my parents didn't wish to send me to Hogwarts – they suspected Voldermort's return long before what would have been my first year. I took my Newts, however, and did quite well."

"Indeed." Hermione had seen Anna's Newts in her papers. She ticked the _Education_ box without a second thought.

"What about working conditions? What were you used to in Belgium?"

"Cramped and long hours," said Anna, with a pleasant laugh. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"Of course," smiled Hermione. "As you may have noticed, we are a little understaffed here in the Muggles Relations Department. It's literally just me and the janitor. I've been working overtime for weeks. No one really cares about Muggles rights, you see."

"It's abominable," said Anna. "The Department is so underfunded that it feels like they don't want you to do anything."

"It does feel like that, yes."

"What you need," said Anna, "Is a campaign. It's the culture of the Wizarding World itself which is the problem. You need to convince people that Muggles are really just the same as us, with the same worth."

"Exactly!" Hermione leaned forward. "But how?"

"Events. Education programs. We need people to understand their prejudices, so they can face them head on."

"Education programs. I like it." Hermione subtly ticked the _Enthusiasm_ box on her clipboard.

Anna sat back and laughed for a moment; it was a pleasant laugh, light and joyful. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just get too into it."

"No matter," smiled Hermione. "I love enthusiasm. You'll need it, in this job. Your responsibilities won't just be filing, you know. As well as Minister for Muggles Relations, I'm also overseer of the Hiring Committee and Second Assistant to the Archives Minister. As my PA, your job will be to do whatever needs doing – speech writing, organising events, assisting in interviews, and helping with whatever needs doing in the Archive Department. They always need help." Hermione rolled her eyes slightly, trying not think about the state of that particularly unorganised Department.

"It sounds like a challenge, and one that I would be very happy to take on." Anna smiled a genuine smile.

"And I would be happy for you to take it on." Hermione returned the smile, completely captivated. "I'll just have to confirm with my superiors, but if everything is in place, I think you would be the perfect candidate for this job."

Anna smiled, and Hermione really couldn't help but smile back. "Thank you so much! I really appreciate this opportunity!"

"That's no worries at all." Hermione stood, indicating the interview finished. "I'll owl you to let you know the official details."

"Thank you so much, again!" Anna gave a final winning smile, before leaving the room.

Hermione sat down in her chair and found that she couldn't stop grinning. "I'll send off that Owl straight away," she said to herself. "She simply _must_ start as soon as possible. It can't wait another day."

/

Ron's house was small, to say the least. In fact, it wasn't really a house. It was really just three rooms connected to the back of his icecream shop. Up a small flight of stairs from the shop's kitchen, there was a small living room with a kitchenette across one wall. A door led to the tiny bathroom, and another door led to his bedroom. A small balcony hung over Diagon Alley itself; filled with tiny plot pants, which Hermione had painted in lots of different colours and shapes.

It was in this tiny little apartment that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were now sitting, gathered around Ron's small table. Hermione was tapping her wand on the table, watching the kettle of boiling water like a hawk.

"Glad you could get the afternoon off, 'Mione," said Ron.

She nodded. "It was hard, let me tell you. But it's not the afternoon. It's the evening."

Ron grinned. "At least it's something, aye!" He chucked his arm round the back of her chair and leaned back.

"Oi, don't make me third wheel," joked Harry.

"In a sense, we're all third wheels here," returned Ron.

"At this present moment," said Harry, "I am the biggest wheel in the room."

"The elephant in the room, mate."

"Being a wheel is still applicable in this situation."

"At least you could be a tricycle," said Ron, who had recently discovered Muggle Bikes and was a little obsessed.

"The Golden tricycle!" said Harry. "Someone call the Prophet, we've got a new name!"

Hermione scoffed; a second later, the kettle boiled. It gave off a pleasant twinkling noise; like an icecream truck. "Took me three hours to get it to make that noise," said Ron. "Had to ask George eventually. Found out he sells whistles for it. Just stick it in the spout, say the spell, and boom! They come in all sorts of noises. You should get one, Harry. Brighten up the place."

"They're probably not safe," sniffed Hermione, as she poured the tea.

"Well, I've had it for a week and I'm not dead yet!"

" _Yet_ ," said Hermione solemnly, as she spooned sugar into her mug and stirred. _Clink_ went the spoon against the mug.

"I'll think about it," said Harry, grinning as Ron patted the kettle fondly on the handle.

"I got a new assistant this week," said Hermione, before taking a sip of tea.

"What happened to the last one?" asked Harry.

Hermione sighed. "She just took off. One day she came to work, and the next she didn't. Said she was going on a very long holiday, and that she was quitting work. Honestly, it was like her to do that. She wasn't the most organised worker at _all_."

"A pity," said Ron. "She made good cups of tea."

"She did," agreed Hermione. "But cups of tea aren't everything. She was an awfully slow writer. Don't know how she managed to get five Newts at all. This new girl – she got seven! _Seven_!"

"Must be very good at making tea then," said Harry solemnly, winking at Ron.

"She does." Hermione took a slow sip. "She makes a wonderful cup of tea."

"Sounds like the perfect assistant," said Ron.

Hermione smiled a little. "She is, actually. Very, very good."

/

 _I'm really sorry that this chapter was so so very very short! Promise a longer one next time!_

 _Also I listened to the Hamilton soundtrack while writing this, so if it accidentally started rhyming, I'm sorry._

 _Reviews will be loved and taken care of! xx_


	18. 17 - 'you're an adult, potter'

It was Harry Potter's birthday.

He woke up like it was every other day. His big, empty house was just as big and empty as it had been when he went to bed.

He was halfway pouring himself a cup of tea when he remembered – he was nineteen now!

He looked at his hands; he clunked down the kettle and ran upstairs to the first bathroom on the landing.

He stared at himself in the mirror.

He was just the same.

Just the same old Harry Potter as he had always been; a little older, a little wiser, perhaps; but still the same little boy who had lived under the stairs for all those years.

If he was a Muggle, he would be a proper adult now. As it was, he felt especially adulty already.

He solemnly trudged downstairs, and drank his tea alone, at the kitchen counter. _Clink_ went the spoon on the edge of the mug.

Previous birthdays ran through his mind. His eleventh; the year when things really started to happen. Old dirty socks as birthday presents. Chocolate Frog cards – he still had them all, in his old trunk upstairs. Hedwig. Icecream with Hagrid.

His seventeenth birthday at the Weasley's; cake and butterbeer and tea with good friends. With Gin- no. No. He wasn't going to think of her.

Harry shook his head quickly, and hurriedly made himself another cup of tea.

He drank it slowly this time. Savouring the adultiness of it all. He was an adult; a real proper adult.

If he was being honest with himself, he still felt exactly the same.

/

"Harry doesn't know, Neville, so don't you dare tell me that you told him," said Hermione bossily. "Oh, do hurry up Ron! Bill, is the drinks table set up yet?"

"Just going to do that now, Hermione." Bill hurried past, and Hermione threw her hands into the air.

"Seriously! Alright Neville. Did. You. Say. Anything?"

Neville hesitated just a fraction of a second too long. "No."

Hermione glared at him. "You told, didn't you?"

"I didn't tell, exactly!" Neville wrung his hands. "Oh don't look like that! He got it out of me, you know how he is."

"You had one job Neville!" hissed Hermione.

"Probably for the better." Ron was holding an armful of plates and dishes. "You know Harry probably wanted time to prepare for this."

"But I wanted it to be a surprise!" Hermione glared fiercely at Neville and seized the plates out of Ron's arms with magic, holding them in the air in front of it. "You – oh bother it! Curses, Neville! Curses!"

"Don't worry mate," whispered Ron as Hermione swept off in a puff. "She's already over it."

"Bother," said Neville, taking a deep breath. "I don't know how you do it."

"Patience," Ron considered. "Patience and tea."

"Bother," repeated Neville.

/

Harry arrived at the not-really-a-surprise birthday party ten minutes early. Hermione had planned for them all to yell "Surprise!" when he walked into the Weasley's garden, but it didn't work out that way.

Instead, Harry pushed open the gate to find a small crowd of wizards and witches setting up tables and the big pavilion. Luna ran up to him and gave him a hug.

"Luna! How are you?"

"Fantastic, thank you," said Luna solemnly. Then she glanced at the pavilion. "You should probably hide. You're not meant to be here yet."

Harry gave a little sigh. "Hermione's on the rampage, is she?"

"I'm afraid she is. Very stressed, I think." Luna smiled at Harry, and took his hand. "Let's apparate to the creek, okay?"

"Alright," said Harry, and with a crack, they were gone.

Echoes from the party floated down the hill. The Weasley House was just out of sight over the hill; smoke sifted up in the sky. Luna plonked herself down on the creek edge and picked a daisy.

"How are you doing, Harry?"

"I haven't seen you in ages," said Harry. "How are _you_ doing?"

Luna smiled, and Harry realised that she wasn't going to let him ignore her question. She didn't reply, only twisted the daisy in her long, pale fingers.

Harry sat down next to her with a sigh, leaning back in the fresh grass.

"I graduated Hogwarts," said Luna suddenly. "It feels strange to be done."

"How were your Newts?"

"Rather pointless, I think. I only needed the qualification. I might be a Healer. Or an astronomer. Or a painter. I don't know yet. But there's plenty of time." Luna waved her slender hand at the blue, blue sky. "I have all the time in the world!"

"Thanks for coming out for the party," said Harry earnestly. "It means a lot."

Luna smiled. "Being graduated means you get to do lots of things you thought you couldn't."

"Like coming to a birthday party?"

"Yes, I suppose. Also flying."

"You know how to fly?"

"It's quite simple. You only need a wish."

This conversation was travelling fast into abstract territory. Harry plucked a piece of grass and stuck it in his mouth, before flopping onto his back.

A silence grew; a comfortable one. Harry almost felt like he was back at Hogwarts; lying on the grass after a long day of studying, waiting to watch the sun go down …

Luna broke the silence with her soft voice. "I'm going to therapy."

"Pardon?"

"I'm doing therapy." Luna sat up, and looked earnestly at Harry. "It's very good. I've learned a lot. Have you thought about therapy?

"I don't need therapy," scoffed Harry. Telling things to a person, who would probably judge every word – he couldn't think of anything worse.

"Okay," said Luna simply. Instantly Harry wished his harsh words back.

"I mean – it probably would be fine. But I don't _need_ it."

"Alright," said Luna. She studied the daisy in her hands.

"Seriously, Luna, I'm fine." Harry sat up too. "I don't have nightmares or anything – at least, not _that_ often. And I've sorted everything through! I'm not sick, and I'm not angry, and I'm not lonely! I don't need therapy, okay! I'm fine!"

Luna glanced at him, and Harry felt his face flushing. "Your fists are clenched," she said simply.

Harry looked down. They were. He unpeeled his fingers and flopped back down on the grass with a sigh.

"It's okay, Harry." Luna looked at the sky. "I miss her too."

Harry couldn't think of anything to reply to that. They all had people they missed. Gin– _she_ wasn't really worth thinking about anymore. There were so many others who deserved his thoughts, and his grief.

But he _did_ miss her.

"I do too," he said at last, so softly it was more of a whisper.

Luna gave his hand a squeeze.

The two of them lay there, on the grass by the creek, hand in hand, in comfortable silence. Luna's hair lay nested around her shoulders, and her eyes squinted at the bright blue sky.

Harry was just thinking that it might be time to get back (he did want to avoid Hermione's wrath as much as necessary, after all) when Luna whispered, "Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes, of course!"

"Do you think Neville still likes Hannah Abott?"

Harry frowned. "No, I'm pretty sure he was over her by the end of sixth year!"

"Okay," said Luna. Then she sat up quickly. "We'd better be getting back. Hermione will be wondering where you are!"

She dragged Harry to his feet, and the two of them, laughing, made their way to the top of the hill.

Hermione was currently engaged in getting people into position, facing the front gate. The group – old and young, and all rather tired of Hermione's bossing – were frankly not cooperating. Hermione had just given a great sigh and turned to face the gate. "Harry could come through at any moment now!" she hissed.

There was a great laugh, and a tap on her shoulder. "Hi 'Mione."

"Harry! Where were you?" demanded Hermione. "Oh, shut up Seamus!"

Harry was swarmed with 'happy birthday's', a small cheer of 'surprise', and had presents thrown at his head. Hermione ran around like a crazy thing, straightening tables and chairs, until Ron sat her down firmly with a champagne glass and a demand that she "Wasn't allowed to do another thing".

Parties go on, as they are wont to do, regardless of whether we wanted it or not. The group was large enough that everyone found something to do. There was dancing in the corner, and Harry privately thanked Neville for accidentally spilling the secret. "I would have liked to know; to be mentally prepared." Harry gestured at Parvarti, who was currently taking shots of butterbeer as Seamus and Dean cheered her on.

"No worries mate," grinned Neville.

Harry gave him a pat on the back. "How are the plants then?"

He was soon sorry he'd asked. As nice as Neville was, he often forgot that other people didn't exactly share his love for Herbology. After ten minutes of hearing Neville reel off Latin, Harry was saved by Luna offering Neville a drink.

He escaped to Hermione's side. "Don't get Neville started on plants," he muttered.

"You should know this by now," laughed Hermione. She didn't stop laughing for quite a bit, scoffing into her drink.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "You good there? How many've you had?"

"Enough," said Hermione, through her giggles. "But not quite enough!" She took a sip from her glass.

"Thanks for organising this, Hermione," laughed Harry. If Hermione was going to get drunk, it was all going to be worth it.

"No worries, Harry!" Hermione put her hands on her hips and frowned. "I wasn't going to have you frowning away in that big old house of yours."

"Yeah." Harry hid his face in his glass. When he emerged, he glanced across the garden. Luna and Neville were still talking, quietly, standing close together apart from the rest of the crowd.

Harry had a light-bulb moment.

"'Mione," he said slowly. "Do you think that Luna and Neville are together?"

Hermione gave a great laugh. "Good Merlin Harry, are you blind? Luna's liked him since Fifth Year. Poor soul. I don't know about Neville, but he had better get onto it, at least in my humble humble opinion."

Harry raised his eyebrows. He could kind of see it. Weird, but it could work.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang as someone apparated right into the party. There was a scream from Parvarti. Ron appeared at Hermione's side in an instant, his arm around her protectively.

A man with Ministry robes had arrived; Molly Weasley hurried forward and he said something to her. She visibly paled.

"Seamus?" she said, terror filling her voice. "You're wanted at home."

Seamus stepped forward, his face like stone. "How bad?"

"I'll tell when we get there," said the Ministry worker, his thick Irish accent spreading through the garden. "Let's be off."

He held out his arm. Seamus took it, and said, "Happy Birthday, Harry."

There was a bang, and they were gone.

The garden exploded into nervous chatter.

"What was it, ma?" said Ron, letting go of Hermione.

"Shush, not so loud," said Molly, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief.

"Please, Molly," said Hermione. "What was that about? Is Seamus okay?"

Molly glanced around, and lowered her voice so quietly that Harry had to lean in to hear. "It's Seamus' father. There's been another attack. He didn't make it."

Hermione breathed in sharply and clutched her head. Harry just sighed.

The attacks had been happening since the Battle for Hogwarts. They were by old Death Eaters, desperately killing, without rhyme or reason. They came without warning, and left without a trace.

So far, 56 had died. _Better make that 57_ , thought Harry.

"Did they catch the Death Eater?" whispered Hermione.

Molly shook her head.

Hermione bowed her head, and gave a little drunken sob.

And Harry looked up at the rapidly darkening sky, and hoped that it would be the last time he'd ever have to comfort his friend.

/

 _a/n: i'm seriously considering going to therapy. i think writing this chapter helped convince me to do it!_


	19. 18 - not a chance

It was a dreary Wednesday morning, two weeks after the ill-fated Birthday Party. There was a mountain of work on the end of Hermione's desk, and she glared at it for a moment, before giving a little sigh.

She took a sip of her tea. She had always hated Wednesdays. It was the day when you were far into the week and barely had anything to show for it. It had always been like that.

Also, the word _Wednesday_ was ugly and illogical.

Maybe Hermione was in a bit of a bad mood. She clunked her spoon against her empty mug and moved it through the air to her side table in the corner of her office.

 _Back to work._

There was a sharp knock on the door, and in strode Anna. She plonked herself down at the chair opposite Hermione and looked sharply at her. "You okay?"

"Fine, thank you. Just a headache." Hermione sighed and rubbed her temples. "What've you got?"

Anna handed her a letter. "It just came through just now. If you want I can get you some Dissonance?"

"For what?"

"The headache." Anna smiled.

"Oh, yes, of course. Please. That would be good."

Anna left the office, leaving the door open, and Hermione forced the seal of the letter open.

 _Dear Ms Granger,_

 _Perhaps this is out of turn, but I need your help._

 _I don't know if you remember me, but my name is Ella Stilt. I was in Gryffindor, in the year below you in school. You tutored me in Astronomy all through my Fifth Year. I wouldn't have passed my Owl if it wasn't for you._

 _There was an attack on me last year. I went to France and didn't report it; I didn't know what to do. I'm back now, but I'm still stuck – you see, I was staying with my aunts, but they are all gone. The house is empty and in ruins. It's been empty for at least six months, or so the officials tell me._

 _I don't know what to do. I can't even practice magic that well anymore. I just want to leave the Wizarding World, if even for a few months._

 _Please help me; I don't know what to do. I know you work in Muggles Relations. Could you set me up with something? I taught in France; kindergarten students. Maybe I could teach. I don't know._

 _Please Owl me at 58 Frances st; the North London Hotel. I'm staying with Muggles, and I think I fit in there better at the moment._

 _Thank you for reading this. I hope you are well._

 _Ella Stilt_

Hermione got letters like this all the time, but never from people she knew. Wizards and witches often wanted to leave the Wizarding World and set themselves up in the Muggle world; there had been a surge of such arrangements after the war.

To get it from Ella – Hermione put her head in her hands.

Ella had been a sweet girl, she remembered. Sweet and kind and feminine. She had always had a ribbon in her hair.

 _I must reply at once._

Just then, Anna bustled in, with a tray of tea and medicine. She set it down on the desk. "Is everything okay, Hermione? What's wrong?"

Hermione just shook her head and took the potion bottle, pouring it out into a glass and swirling the liquid. "Thanks for this," she said, watching the deep purple liquid bubble away. She downed it in one gulp and pursed her lips. "Urgh." She felt her headache disappear almost immediately; surging down to join the black liquid in her stomach.

Everything was fine. She was floating on air. She took a deep sigh, and smiled.

"Is there anything else I can do?" Anna glanced at the letter, and Hermione folded it up and slipped it into her desk drawer."

"Clear my Friday afternoon," she said. "I want two hours free from two to four, please."

"Hermione, you have a meeting with the Minister of the Archives at two thirty."

"Well, he'll have to be moved then, won't he," said Hermione. A small smile played at Anna's lips, but she nodded.

"And Anna?"

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if you're free tonight? I think it would be nice to get to know each other outside of work, wouldn't you?"

Anna smiled; her big, pleasant smile.

"That would be wonderful," she said. "I would love to."

"Good. You can come to mine." Hermione smiled back. Anna's smile was infectious.

/

They had ordered Muggle food, as Hermione didn't feel like cooking. She had installed a telephone in her apartment, much to the amusement of her Magical friends, and had swiftly ordered Chinese while Anna watched in awe. Then she and Anna had arranged themselves on the couches – Hermione with her feet tucked under her legs, as usual – and got comfortable.

"So. Anna." Hermione stirred her tea and tried to look older than she was. "If you don't mind me asking – please say if this is too personal – how old are you?"

Anna grinned, then looked down. "You'll probably think I'm too young for the job if I tell you."

"I never think anyone is too young for their job," said Hermione firmly.

"Alright then." Anna grinned. "I'm twenty. There."

Hermione chuckled into her tea. "I can't imagine what it must be like to be working for someone who's younger than you!"

"Who?"

"Me, of course! I'm not even twenty yet. Still a month and a bit to go."

"Really? I would never have thought it! For some reason I always assumed you were older."

Hermione scoffed. "Please. The only reason I'm this high up in the Ministry is because of my role in the War. That, and the fact that no one wanted the job of Muggle Relations Minister. It's too much stress." She raised her mug. "I'm sure you've found that out."

"Believe me, I have," said Anna. "I don't know how you do it."

"Hey, it's both of us together now."

"Both of us together, against the Ministry!" Anna pumped her fist in the air, and Hermione laughed.

Just then the doorbell dinged, and Hermione ran up to get it. She paid the driver and carried the bag into the dining room, dumping it on the table. "Want to try some Chinese?"

"I will once you explain what Chinese actually _is_." Anna peered into the bag and frowned. "What's it like?"

"It's like… it's like Chinese." Hermione cluttered around the kitchen, finding bowls and cutlery. She spooned out the food and handed a bowl to Anna. "Go on. Try it."

"If I must." Anna took a cautious bite.

"Well?"

"Merlin," moaned Anna. "Why doesn't the Leaky make food like this?"

"Because the Leaky Cauldron sucks," said Hermione matter-of-factly, before digging into her own food. "You should try Muggle meals more often, Anna. Broaden your horizons."

"Only if I have to," grinned Anna, winking between bites.

/

Ella Stilt's fingers were shaking slightly, but it was impossible to tell because she was tapping them briskly against her leg. Her leg was also shaking, but because it was bouncing up and down, it was also impossible to tell. Her eyes were moving quickly from one side of the café to the other, taking note of every entrance and exit. In short, she was a shaking mess.

She jumped at the voice. "Miss Stilt?"

"Hermione!" She jumped up and stuffed her hands in her pockets. "I mean, Miss Granger. Thank you so much for meeting with me."

"No matter," said Hermione, sitting down opposite to Ella. She was just as Ella had remembered her – self-controlled, professional, and with a cold air of business. "This was something that I knew we'd have to deal with in person. Now. Have you ever thought about being a teacher's aide?"

"A – a what?"

"A teacher's aide, Ella," said Hermione, her voice thick with professionalism. "It's a job in the Muggle world. You assist the teacher in teaching the muggle children. It's simple work, and we can easily get you qualifications for it."

"I – I would like that very much, I think." Ella remembered to smile, her insides quaking in intimidation. "Thank you."

"Good." Hermione pushed a folder across the table. Ella fingered the blue edges, hesitant.

"What's this?"

"This is your new life, Ella. Your documents, qualifications, and experience that will let you shine in the Muggle world." Hermione put her hands together and nodded. "What do you think?"

"I think – "

"Oh Ella, don't cry!" The professionalism was shed as Hermione searched through her bag frantically and handed tissue after tissue to Ella.

"I'm sorry…" gulped Ella. "I've just … I've been on edge… it's just too much…"

"It's okay Ella," said Hermione. "We'll keep you safe. Safe and sound."

"I'll never be safe." Ella blew her nose.

"Yes. Yes, you will."

Ella knew she wouldn't, but she just shook her head and took the tissue that Hermione held out to her.

She had worked for the Order for over a year. Many of Voldermort's old followers knew who she was, and were out to get her – as the attack on her six months ago had proved. Her six month sojourn in Europe had but been a speck in the ocean of the risks that she faced every day. She was constantly in danger. Having left the Order, her only hope now was to find solitude in the Muggle world.

Safe and sound? _Not a chance._

/

 _I listened to Laleh while writing this chapter – I love her now! She's great! Go listen to her please!_

 _Also thanks so much for reading this chapter! I'm sorry if Hermione was a bit ooc, I always struggle to write her character asdfghjkl_

 _Review? xx_


	20. 19 - we all scream for icecream

It was a happy Saturday morning, and Hermione hummed softly to herself as she wiped the kitchen counter with a flick of her wand. The cheerful knock at the door made leave her wand on the table and trip down the hall to the front door.

"Hermione!"

Luna swept into the apartment in a yellow dress with her characteristic turnip earrings; her hair piled on top of her head.

"So good to see you, Luna!" Hermione gave Luna a kiss on the cheek. "How have you been? Come into the kitchen, we can make some tea!"

"Good, thank you Hermione," said Luna, as she tripped down the hall of the teensy apartment. "No tea for me, thank you. I'm only drinking water and papaya juice at the moment!"

Hermione raised her eyebrows only slightly as she pulled the kettle out of the cupboard. "Papaya juice?"

"For the bad dreams." Luna pulled a paintbrush out of the knots in her hair and started dabbling it about in the air. "It's starting to work. You should try it."

"I'm sorry, I don't have any on hand right now! I could floo to the shops, or – "

"Oh no, don't worry. I bring some with me wherever I go now." Luna reached her arm into her sling bag, and pulled out a small green bottle. "You have to dilute it," she said. "It's very strong."

Hermione gave a laugh. "All right then, papaya juice it is!" She lifted cups out of the cupboard over the stove.

Luna made swirls in the air with her paintbrush; her legs crossed up on the kitchen stool. "Do you have bad dreams, Hermione?" she said.

Hermione paused. Did she? There were some, certainly. But no more than would usually be expected after all the trauma that came with defeating Voldemort and being in hiding for a year. "I suppose," she said cautiously. "But not bad."

"Mine stopped," nodded Luna, understandingly. "But they're back now. Voldemort is always back and he's going for Harry. Neville always dies in them. It's awful."

Luna had this funny habit of sharing trauma at unexpected moments. This was one of them. Hermione cleared her throat. "I'm sorry," she said. "Have you told your therapist? You're seeing one, aren't you?"

"Yes," said Luna. "She thinks it's trauma. I think that it's something else."

"Like what?"

Luna waved her paintbrush; the spiral left odd tracks in the air. Like glitter; only it faded after a moment. Hermione held her breath as the tracks glittered out.

Then Luna shrugged. "Probably nothing," she said, very un-Luna like. "Anyway, we better get onto why we're actually here. The Christmas party!"

Hermione took the obvious cue, and the two of them launched into a discussion of who to invite. It had already been decided that the party was to be at the Weasley's – once they had set up the tent in the garden it would be the biggest space available. Hermione had taken on the job of organising the event, and Luna had offered to help.

They were deciding seating plans. "I want Harry next to Anna," insisted Hermione. "They'd complement each other perfectly."

"All right, as long as you sit next to Ron, and I sit next to you," said Luna, with a wink.

"Very well!" Hermione wrote down Luna and Anna's names with a flourish. "Now, what about Neville? I suppose that he's next to Hannah?"

"They broke up, didn't they?" said Luna quickly.

"They did too. I keep forgetting, it's awful." Hermione frowned. "They're still friends though, so it would probably be fine – what do you think?"

"He can probably go next to me, probably," said Luna, very quickly. "On my right? And Hannah can be across from him, I guess? Though she'd rather sit next to Parvarti, I'm sure."

Hermione smirked. "All right then, Luna, have it your way. You can sit next to Neville if that's what you want."

"I do," said Luna, and stuck out her chin.

"You know," said Hermione, as she wrote down Neville's name on the plan, "You really do need to get in there, Luna Lovegood. I'm sick of thirdwheeling."

Luna threw her paintbrush at her, and Hermione laughed so hard she tipped her forgotten papaya juice over with her elbow. It dripped down onto the floor in a sticky orange trail.

/

Later that afternoon, Hermione was wondering through Diagon Alley; large sunglasses hiding her face, an cup of steaming butterbeer in one hand, and Ron's in the other. They were peering in shop windows and laughing as they made their way down the Alley.

They had gone far in their wanderings, wrapped up in each others company. As they passed the entrance to Knockturn Alley, Hermione froze, jerking Ron back. "What is it?"

"Anna!" cried Hermione. A passing witch glanced up, and then froze at the unexpected meeting. In a moment, she had regained her composure, and her face lit up with a smile. She shouldered her bag and approached the couple.

"Hermione, how are you? I didn't expect to meet you here!"

"Anna this is Ron. Ron, this is Anna, my assistant. You know, at work."

Ron smiled and shook Anna's hand; her eyes glinted at him, cold in the chilly air. He gave a little, uncontrollable shiver.

"We were just going back to Ron's," Hermione was explaining. "He runs the icecream shop."

"Oh, how quaint!" smiled the blonde witch. Ron gave a grimace. "I suppose you live nearby?"

"Above the shop, actually," said Ron.

"Indeed!"

"Did you want to walk with us?" asked Hermione. "Where were you heading?"

"I was going back to the pub exit," said Anna. "Just finishing up."

"The Pub exit is on the way to Ron's! You must join us!"

"What were you finishing up, down Knockturn Alley?" asked Ron. Hermione elbowed him, and he let out a little squeak.

"Oh – just a survey on Muggle's relations." Anna gave a smile. "Can't say I'm too popular down there right now." She gestured down the Alley, and Ron shook his head.

"It would have worried me if you were."

"Ron!" hissed Hermione. Then she seized Anna's arm. "You must walk back with us."

"If I must," grinned Anna, and the two set off, chattering away, leaving Ron to follow behind; hands deep in pockets and brain deep in thought.

The icecream shop was empty. Ron was still expecting his winter stock – it was late, the recent attacks leading to slow transport in goods – meaning that until the icecream that promised to warm you up arrived, people would have to buy regular cold icecream. Meaning that trade had rather slowed. The tinkle of the door as they entered made the sixteen year old that worked there look up hurriedly.

"All good, it's just us," said Ron wearily. The sixteen year old nodded and pretended to look busy behind the counter.

"Well, lovely to catch up," Anna was saying, "But I really have to head off now."

"Are you sure? Would you like to stay for a cuppa?" insisted Hermione. Ron shrugged off his coat with a sigh.

"I'd love to, but I have things to do," said Anna, smiling apologetically. "How about another time, what about – " She froze suddenly, staring behind Hermione.

Both Ron and Hermione turned, to find a sheepish looking Harry Potter shutting the 'staff only' door behind him. "Hi guys, sorry Ron – oh, it's you!" His eyes widened and his jaw dropped slightly.

Ron glanced back at Anna, who had completely regained her composure. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" she said loftily, fixing her gloves.

"Yeah, we met outside the pub, remember? And on the bus? This was months ago, I understand if you don't remember?"

"Um, I hate to interrupt this little reunion," said Ron, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "But may I ask what you were doing in my house?"

"Sorry mate, had to borrow some sugar, and I knew you had some," said Harry. Hermione snorted. "You said I could come round anytime, remember?"

"Yeah, just thought I'd get some warning." Ron gave a chuckle. "All good mate."

"So wait – you guys have met?" Hermione seized Anna's hand. "You didn't tell me that you've met Harry!"

"I haven't!" insisted Anna with a smile. "Wait – is this _the_ Harry?"

"Yes! Harry Potter!"

"We've met already though!" said Harry, grinning. "Outside the Leaky Cauldron, remember! This was what, in June? Surely you remember!"

"I was nowhere near in London in June!" Anna fixed her cold blue eyes on Harry, and he had to look away. "I was in Belgium!"

"But it was you! I remember your eyes, it was definitely you! Don't you remember the thugs?"

"The thugs? Excuse me?" Anna smiled. "I do not tend to make my company around _thugs_."

"But it was you! We were outside the Cauldron and I fired a spell and the thugs left and you were on the ground, and you were crying … " Harry trailed off as all three of them gave him blank stares.

"Harry," said Hermione, very firmly. "Anna says she has never met you before. She hasn't."

"But we have!"

"Leave it."

"It's nothing," said Anna with a smile, waving her hand and dismissing the argument. "At least we've met now. Harry, I'm Anna, Hermione's assistant." She held out her hand.

Harry walked slowly towards her and shook her hand. Her eyes pierced into him, and he let go grimly. "Nice to meet you, _Anna_."

"Very nice to meet you too. Harry."

She smiled at him, and Harry felt instinctively that her smile was anything but. He glared back.

"Well, it was lovely seeing you all, but I'm afraid I have to go." Anna gave Hermione a kiss on the cheek, and shook hands with Ron. "I'll see you on Monday, Hermione!"

"Bright and early! Have a good weekend!"

Hermione's smile only lasted until Anna had left the store, the bell tinkling as the door closed.

She turned on her heel, and glared fiercely at Harry. "I really cannot believe you, Harry Potter! Why did you have to annoy her like that? Can't you take no for an answer?"

"Hermione. I have seen her before. And her name isn't Anna. It's Eve. Unless she was lying about that – "

"You have absolutely no right!" cried Hermione. "I cannot believe you right now!"

"Hermione, you're overreacting!" said Ron.

Hermione turned the glare onto her boyfriend. "Excuse me, Ronald Weasley! Anna explicitly said, several times, that she had not met Harry, and he just went on insisting that he had! Did no one ever teach you manners, Harry?"

"Actually, no, no one did," snapped Harry.

"Oh, don't give me that rubbish," returned Hermione. "You and your hero's complex. You just wanted to mention a time when you had saved someone, didn't you? That one time that you had made one good impression with a girl?"

"Hero's complex? I'm sorry if saving the world gave me a hero's complex, Hermione, I really am." Harry pushed his glasses firmly up his nose. "And I wasn't fishing for a compliment, I was wondering if she'd remember me, who, I don't know, _saved her life_!"

"You saved a lot of people's lives, Harry. But _not_ Anna's."

"Oh, so defeating Voldermort didn't save her life? I see, I'll just take that delivery right back!"

"All right, all right!"

Ron had managed to get between his fuming friends. Hermione's hands were clenched and she was glaring fiercely, her hair falling about her shoulders in its bush; Harry's arms were crossed and he too was glaring, his normal good nature forgotten.

"Let's calm it down," said Ron. "Hermione, let's go get a cup of tea into you. Harry, mate, why don't you head off and we'll catch up another time."

"Don't you dare side with Harry!" Hermione cried. "He was the rude one in this situation!"

"Harry …"

"I'm going," glared Harry, bursting out of the shop and slamming the door behind him. The bell twinkled savagely.

The sixteen year old staff member, forgotten about in the yelling, peeked up from behind the counter of the shop. "Um – Ron, not to bother you but when should I finish later?"

"Yeah, stay a couple of hours please, I'll pay you extra," called Ron from the staff door, which he shut and closed gently behind him.

It was going to take a lot of tea to calm Hermione down, that was for sure.

/

Luna stood up suddenly from her painting. "Hermione! What is it?"

A glaring Hermione's face had appeared in the fireplace. "Bad news, I'm afraid," she said. "We're going to have to switch Harry out in the seating plan. He can't sit next to Anna anymore."

"Oh dear!" said Luna. "What happened?"

"He was very rude," said Hermione. "And I am very angry."

"I'd swallow a beetle," suggested Luna. "It gets rid of anger. It has to be whole, though. Legs and all."

Hermione's glowing face grimaced. "Thanks Luna. Just change it on your copy, will you? Thanks, bye."

She disappeared with a burst of smoke.

Luna sighed, and picked up her paintbrush. She added a blob of brown to Hermione's nose, and a brush of pink to Neville's cheeks. She paused –

And gently kissed the wet painting.

/

 _Excuse all the angst in this chapter. I wrote it when I thought Brooklyn 99 was being cancelled so I was very angry. (that also gives you, the reader, an indication of how long ago I wrote this chapter. Wooohooooo.)_

 _Review? xx_


	21. 20 - arrangements

Hermione was just settling down to a long morning of paperwork, when there came a sharp knock at her office door.

"Come in!"

It was Anna. She came in softly, and closed the door behind her. "I just wanted to say sorry for Saturday. I let things get out of hand with Harry, and your boyfriend."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. That had _not_ been what she was expecting. "Don't worry about it, please. It wasn't your fault. It was Harry's; _he_ was the rude one."

"No, but I don't want friendships to be ruined over me!" said Anna quickly.

Hermione swallowed. "Our friendship isn't ruined, Anna."

"Friendships, especially like what you and Harry have, are too precious to waste over a petty argument." Anna's pale hand rested on the desk. "Please, Hermione."

Hermione looked up at her assistant; she smiled. "It's okay, Anna. I'll fix it up. Maybe I overreacted a bit."

"Just a bit," winked Anna.

Hermione tried to frown and failed. "Out you get, I'm working!"

"Promise you'll owl Harry?"

Hermione gave a pause, just to be irritating. "Promise."

"Thank you." The blonde witch turned and headed out of the office.

"Anna?"

She paused in the doorway. "Yes?"

"Thank _you_."

Hermione smiled to herself as the door closed, and she pulled a piece of blank parchment out of her desk. Perhaps she had overreacted, just a little.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Okay fine, maybe I overreacted. I'm sorry for the yelling. You better apologise to Anna, though. But I do know how frustrating it is when you think you recognise someone, only it's not them._

 _And I'm sorry for saying you have a hero's complex. If anyone should have one, it's you._

 _Sorry sorry sorry etc. etc. etc. anyway see you at the Weasleys bye._

 _Yours,_

 _Hermione Granger_

 _Muggles Relations_

 _Ministry of Magic_

 _London_

/

Two notes landed on Hermione's desk, delivered by a smiling Anna.

The first one, note A – from Harry.

 _It's all good, Hermione. Hey, I'm really sorry. I got really carried away. I don't know what came over me. It's obvious that it was a mistake and I'm sorry._

 _Also sorry sorry etc etc and I will see you at the Weasley's on Saturday! Merry Christmas etc etc._

 _Yours,_

 _Harry Potter_

 _Who knows what I do_

 _Auror's Office_

 _The Magical World of I Am Very Sorry_

Hermione gave a little chuckle as she deposited the note in her drawer – she knew Ron would have a laugh at it.

Then she slit open the second letter, letter B – just a small note.

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _What about putting her next to Percy?_

 _Love, Luna._

Hermione smiled. What a fabulous idea.

/

The Weasley's tent had been set up once again. Mrs Weasley, incredibly stressed, was rushing about the inside of it, fixing tables and chairs and straightening dishes on the counters. Luna was waving her wand, hanging up bunting and fairy lights from the tent's poles; George was tiredly sweeping the leaves out of the tent, and Ron was decorating the large tree in the corner.

Mr Weasley was outside, casting charms to raise the temperature. Doing a Christmas dinner outside in the middle of winter would not have been a good idea – at least, not without some warming charms.

Hermione was in the kitchen with Fleur and Bill, giving one last check to the turkey and ham. She was wearing a red dress and black heels, her hair somewhat tamed with a headband. For now, however, the whole ensemble was hidden beneath a grey jacket and scarf – it was still freezing outside, as Mr Weasley had not yet perfected the warming spells.

Hermione bounced up and down. "Are you sure it's not ready?"

"It's nearly ready," said Fleur, peering into the oven. "You simply must calm down, Hermione."

"No time for calm," burst out Hermione. "The guests will arrive any second – "

"No stressed cooks allowed in the kitchen," said Bill from the kitchen chair, where he had been puffing away on his pipe; smoke wrapping around him like a dragon. "It ruins the vibe."

"No smoking in the kitchen," shot back Hermione.

"Hey, mum's not here."

"And I'm not telling," said Fleur, striding through the smoke and leaning down for a kiss.

Hermione sighed. Ron had been strangely distant all day. She had been oddly reminded of the Summer before Bill and Fleur's wedding, when she and Ron had been separated, forced to do chores from morning till night …

"Shoo," said Fleur, picking up Hermione's wand from the table and pushing her out of the kitchen. "Go and help outside."

Hermione hurried to the giant tent, and peeked through the opening. The silver gold decorations on the tables were stunning, set up against the warm red of the tent. She wandered over to the Christmas tree, where Ron was currently standing, using his wand to levitate decorations up onto the tree.

She stood watching him for a moment. He had grown up so much in the past year. What with the loss of his brother and sister, he had been forced to look after his parents and George, as well as the added responsibility of a girlfriend.

It was little wonder that he had quit Auror training and moved out, into his little icecream shop.

Almost as if he was thinking the same thing, his shoulders drooped. Hermione took a step forward and placed her brown little hand in his.

She glanced at him, and was surprised to see a tear running down his cheek.

She leaned against him and carefully wiped it away with the corner of her scarf.

Ron gave a little hiccup. "It's just – it's the tree we had when we were kids – me and Ginny would watch the twins decorate it, and Ginny would always put the star on."

He looked down, and Hermione saw what he had been looking at, the last item in the decorations box – a gold star, perfect for sitting just at the top of the tree.

"It was always Ginny's job to put it on." His shoulders started to shake.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him, and leaned her head on his shaking shoulder. She promised herself she would never let go. A tear slid down her cheek too, and her grey scarf grew wet with pain.

"You know," said Ron, softly, "I think we all know she's still alive. We just don't want to talk about it. It's easier to think she's dead, than to know that she was _his_ all that time."

Hermione nestled deeper into Ron's shoulder. "I know, Ron."

"We all know."

"Would you rather we talked about it more?"

"No."

"Okay."

And the two hugged silently in front of the Christmas tree, watching the little golden star sit in the box. It wasn't going anywhere.

/

Anna pulled open her wardrobe door with a bang. There was but a small selection to choose from; certainly nothing that would be suitable for Hermione's party.

She snorted. What a waste of time. Nothing but a bunch of mudbloods sitting around, chatting about ways to incorporate muggles into wizarding society. What a blast.

The clothes in her wardrobe stared at her; it was full of black work robes, three black Death Eater robes (less heavy than the work ones, with more range of movement), and a grey robe which she had been given when she had arrived at the manor – her memory gone, her clothes tattered, and clutching the wand and the stone, which were both now hiding under her wardrobe.

In the end, she slammed her wardrobe shut with a bang. Clearly nothing in there was going to work. "I'll have to go to Narcissa," she muttered.

The Malfoy Manor was being used as the temporary headquarters for Death Eaters on the run. There were over thirty bedrooms set up in the basement, and, as a general rule, the people downstairs in the basement were supposed to _stay_ downstairs in the basement, leaving and exiting by a tunnel that let out in the garden. Anna, however, was an exception.

She passed several glaring Death Eaters on her way to the stairs, and she purposefully ignored the jeers as she climbed the marble steps to the top of the stairs and opened the unfriendly, splintery wooden door.

The door opened into the mansion that was the Manor. She made her way down several corridors, flights of stairs and visiting rooms, and at last made her way to Narcissa's suite, only having passed several house elves.

She knocked on the door carefully, and checked her hair in a nearby mirror.

"Enter!"

She opened the door. "Good afternoon, Narcissa."

The mistress of the house was reclined on a luxurious sofa, reading a book. Behind her, a fountain rushed; the water silver in the candlelit room. Narcissa cast the book down and sat up slowly. "Oh, you're still here? I haven't seen you in a while, thought you were dead. It is you, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's Anna. Yaxley said – "

"Oh yes, yes, I remember. He said to help you if you needed anything. For your latest mission, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You can drop the ma'am," snapped Narcissa, massaging her temples. "You're not a common Death Eater, are you. I assume that you're rather important, if your mission requires my help. Or maybe you're not, and Yaxley just wanted to keep me busy. I wouldn't be surprised."

Anna was tempted to fire back a harsh reply, but bit the inside of her cheek and held her tongue. "I was just wondering if I could borrow a dress. I'm going to a party tonight and don't have anything suitable."

"Oh, is that it?" Narcissa lay back on the couch with a groan. "The wardrobe's over there. Take your pick. Just don't choose the Green Nepsilon dress; it's priceless."

Anna nodded her thanks, and picked her way across the room to the door that Narcissa had pointed to. It was indeed luxurious; hundreds of dresses lined walls of the room, and shoes were scattered along the floor. She quickly picked out a deep blue dress that shimmered – clearly magical – along with some silver heels.

"I suppose it's some Death Eater party you're going to, down in the basement?" scowled Narcissa.

Anna stepped out of the wardrobe and made her way to the door. "No, it's part of the mission."

"Part of the mission? What on earth can you mean?"

"I'm sorry, I'm not supposed to give out what my mission is." Anna waved to the woman. "Thanks for the dress!"

"You know, Anna, if you don't tell anyone anything, one day you're going to burst," drawled Narcissa.

Anna paused in the doorway.

She opened her mouth to say something – and closed it.

Then she left to get ready, back in her cold room in the dungeon of the Manor.

/

 _Guyssss I'm sickkkk please send reviews and tea xx_


	22. 21 - God bless ye merry gentlemen

It was the Christmas Dinner, Christmas Eve. At five pm, the guests began to arrive – sweeping in in coats and scarves and gloves, all discarded at the entrance to the tent and hung up on floating hooks. The warming charms had finally managed to work, and the tent was practically glowing.

Harry arrived ten minutes late, and headed straight for Ron. "Sorry I'm late mate. What'd I miss?"

"Nothing much," said Ron with a chuckle. "The night's only just starting!"

"Glad of it," grinned Harry. "Where's Hermione?"

"No clue," returned Ron. "Probably fussing over the dinner table. Ahhh, Muriel, how are you?"

"That's Aunt Muriel to you," said the old lady, bopping Ron on the head with her umbrella – a feat indeed, as he was considerably taller than her.

Harry made his escape before Muriel could coax him into revealing how he was faring after the war. He spotted Hermione across the room, and managed to make his way over to her with barely any small talk. "Hermione, how are you?"

"Fine, good to see you Harry!" Hermione looked him up and down, hands on hips. "I suppose Auror training went alright, then?"

"Yeah, and you know I'm sorry that I couldn't help set up," said Harry quickly. "I couldn't get off, not even for this."

Hermione's face broke into a smile. "You know I'm not mad," she laughed. "But you better be good!"

"Promise!" winked Harry. Hermione rolled her eyes with a grin, and then gasped, hurrying away to greet guests.

Anna arrived a few minutes late, but Hermione had waved aside her apologies and dragged her along for introductions. "This is Molly Weasley, who's hosting," she said.

Anna put her hand out with a small smile. "Pleased to meet you."

Molly shook it warmly. "Pleased to meet you too, Anna. Glad you could make it." _Good grief, her eyes are as cold as the weather_ , she thought to herself. Anna's smile faded.

"Indeed."

"Come on," said Hermione, not sensing the sudden chill. "I'll introduce you to George. George, this is Anna."

So it went on. Anna was introduced to the rest of the Weasleys, Luna, Hannah Abbott, and Parvarti. "I heard you're good at making tea?" said Parvarti, taking a sip of champagne.

"Every good secretary should be," said Anna. "What about you?"

"Can't stand the stuff. Hermione has to feed me hot chocolate when I come over," said Parvarti, laughing loudly.

Anna gave a polite smile, chilly enough to quench even Parvarti.

"At least it's good hot chocolate," grinned Hermione, not noticing Anna's expression. "You like it."

"That I do," said Parvarti, giving Anna a raised eyebrow. "It is good."

"Harry!" Hermione had just spotted him; she seized Anna by the wrist and pulled her along behind her. "You have to fix your meeting," she hissed.

"It'd be my pleasure!" whispered back Anna, grinning.

Harry turned away from a conversation with Hagrid about mischievous third years in his cabbage patch – right into Hermione. "Merlin, 'Mione!"

"Sorry Harry – oh my goodness Justin, where did you get that pie? They're not meant to be out till later!"

Hermione disappeared into the crowd chasing a small Weasley cousin, leaving Anna and Harry standing alone.

"Um." Harry ran his hand through his hair. "Hi."

"No, allow me." Anna shook his hand, smiling a genuine smile. "I'm dreadfully sorry about the last time. We got off on the wrong foot."

"No, it was me. I'm really sorry, I don't know quite what came over me! Just yelling all over the place …" Harry trailed off. Enough was said. It had been but a simple mistake. Merlin, had he been an idiot!

They stared at the party. Harry took a sip of his firewhiskey. "Do you want me to get you something?"

"What?"

"Something to drink."

"Oh. No, thank you. I don't drink." Anna shrugged.

"Fair enough," said Harry. "Probably a good call."

"'A loss of mind equals a loss of time'," quoted Anna. "My old guardian used to say that all the time. I just don't like losing control."

"A bit of drink doesn't mean you lose control," argued Harry.

"But a bit leads to a bit more."

"I guess …"

"Don't mind me." Anna smiled. "I get carried away with my lecturing sometimes."

"Don't worry, it's all good."

"Thanks."

Harry swirled his drink, then put it on a nearby floating tray. He cleared his throat. "So … what's it like working for old 'Mione?"

"She's a great worker, is Hermione." Anna grinned. "Sometimes she works a bit too hard …"

"And forgets to eat."

"Or sleep."

"Hope she doesn't drag you down with her!"

"She does sometimes," said Anna hesitantly. "But I don't mind. It's good to work hard."

"It is … but it's also good to get some rest sometimes."

"Hey, I'm getting some now!"

"I hope you are," said Harry.

"I am, now that I'm done talking to those ol' chatterboxes."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Which ones?"

"Oh, you know – the redheads. That blonde one. The one who wouldn't stop talking about plants."

"You mean the Weasleys."

"Oh Merlin, I didn't mean to offend!" said Anna, obviously sensing Harry's irritation. "I just meant – "

"It's okay," said Harry. He grabbed a drink off a passing tray and took a sip; the alcohol slid down his veins. "I don't mind."

He hurried off in search of someone more interesting to talk to. Hermione's secretary was, in his humble opinion, a bit of a cold-hearted git.

 _She's pretty though,_ a little voice in his head whispered. He whisked it away with a curse, and went to find Neville. He'd have some interesting conversation at least.

/

The party was over. It was past three in the morning, all the guests had left, and the Weasleys were stacking dishes in the kitchen to be done overnight.

Hermione was incredibly tired. It had been a long evening; full of talking and organising and straightening stained tablecloths. She trecked from the tent to the house, her arms full of dirty tablecloths. She opened the door with a whispered spell, and trudged up the stairs, dumping the material in the laundry. On her way down the stairs, she heard her name.

She paused, just out of sight of the kitchen, where she knew that the Weasleys were assembled. "I don't know why on earth they put me next to Hermione's friend," Percy was saying. "She wasn't at all interested in what I had to say."

"Normally I'd agree with her," came George's voice, "Except she was a bit strange, wasn't she. One moment she was happy and cheerful and the next, she was glaring at you with those blue eyes of hers."

"Like ice," came Percy's voice again. "That's what they were like. Ice."

"Look," came, to Hermione's annoyance, _Fleur's_ voice, "I'll admit she isn't the nicest person. But she had to sit next to someone, didn't she. And it had to be you!"

"Well, I didn't appreciate it," said Percy.

"I'll bet she didn't appreciate being sat next to you. What does she know about the ins and outs of the Ministry!" said Molly. "And that's all you ever talk about."

There was a groan of "Muuum," from Percy, and a "Hush darling, I'm too tired for your nonsense."

"Well, apart from Anna being there, it was quite a nice evening wasn't it." This was Bill talking. Hermione fumed.

"It wasn't like you had to talk to her," sniffed Percy.

"I did too!" insisted Bill. "Stuck with her for at least twenty minutes, after desert. She was a bit up herself, wasn't she?"

Hermione would have actually murdered someone at this point. She was sorely tempted to storm into the kitchen – but she held back, biting her lip.

Tears filled her eyes.

With a large crack, she apparated away.

/

 _To write this chapter, I listened to all the songs I used to listen to when I was 14. Wow was that a nostalgic mistake. Brb while i cri_

 _P.S. sorry I'm uploading so many chapters all at once, I figured I might as well finish posting this story tonight_

 _Review? xx_


	23. 22 - oh dear

"I just can't do it, Luna. I just can't do it!"

"It's okay," said Luna. "You can do it."

"But I don't want to!"

"Okay then."

Hermione gave a great gulp and sipped the tea that Luna had brewed her. She grimaced; it was sickly sweet. "It just really hurt me. That's the main problem here."

"I think the main problem is that they don't know that they did it," said Luna softly. "You want them to apologise and they can't."

"Oh dear." Hermione set down the sweet tea and sighed. "It's just all a mess."

"Why don't you and Ron go out and have a date?" asked Luna.

"Why don't you and Neville go out and have a date?" returned Hermione. "Is it official yet?"

Luna shook her head sadly, and Hermione bit her lip. "He looked at Hannah the whole night," whispered Luna. "He didn't want to talk to me. He was too nice to say that, though."

"Oh Luna." Hermione squeezed her friend's hand. "Here I am going on about my problems, and you are going through something much harder than gossip."

"Your words are textbook perfect," said Luna. "I'm fine. I just need some snail slime on my tongue, and I'll be right as rain."

"If you say so!"

The Anna conversation was dropped, although not after Hermione had begun the hatching of a small plan.

/

Invitations were sent out from Hermione's office – three of them, identical, with thick white parchment and a red seal.

 _You are cordially invited to a small party at Hermione's home, to celebrate the New Year._

 _Address – 21 Cherry st, London._

 _Time – 6pm 31 December – 10am 1_ _st_ _January._

 _You are invited to stay the night. Please bring suitable clothes, pillows, and any sense of humour that you possess._

 _If you're doing anything else, please cancel. I expect to see you all there. Or else._

 _Love, Hermione xx_

/

Anna knocked sharply on the office door. The maze that was the Malfoy Dungeon was a loud place, but the corner where Yaxley's office was situated was generally a quiet one.

"Come in." Anna stepped into the dimly lit room, shutting the door behind her.

"Sit," said Yaxley, pointing to the wooden chair in front of his desk. Anna sat. it was a full minute of Yaxley shifting through papers before he glanced at her again. "Yes, you wanted to see me for …"

"It's just," said Anna, "I don't quite know what I'm meant to be doing."

"What?"

"I'm close to Granger. Really close. Now what?"

Yaxley twiddled his quill, and looked at her from under his thick brows.

"I'm sorry if this seems impatient," added Anna hastily, glaring fiercely at Yaxley. "I'm just tired of not being giving information. When am I meant to meet the Dark Lord?"

"Patience," said Yaxley. "You are not yet ready."

"When will I be?"

Yaxley shook his head. "As to whether you're really close to Granger, will she eat out of your hand? Will she describe her greatest secret to you in immense, uncomfortable detail? Will she abandon her friends to make you happy?"

Anna scowled. "Yes. Probably. Yes."

"Prove it," said Yaxley. "You will know the rest of the plan when you are ready. You're dismissed."

And with that, he pointed to the door. It opened.

Anna took her cue to leave.

/

At ten past six on New Year's Eve, there was a rumble in Hermione's fireplace. Out jumped Ron, and a moment later, Harry. "How are you!" cried Hermione, hugging Harry and giving Ron a quick kiss.

"Please don't tell me I'll be third wheeling all night," sighed Harry dramatically, throwing his bag down in the corner of Hermione's living room.

"I'll make sure you're not," laughed Hermione.

"Nevermind, I'll just record the snogging."

"You wouldn't dare …"

"Try me!"

Hermione threw a cushion at him, while Ron called from the kitchen, "Where's the cocoa, 'Mione?"

"Second cupboard – oh, never mind," muttered Hermione, rushing to help Ron. "I tell you this every time …"

Harry grinned to himself as he listened to Hermione and Ron's flirting. It never grew old – but it did make him miss … something.

Maybe it was just the prolonged absence of a plus one. He hadn't been able to bring himself to date anyone since … since the war. It had just been all too much. Maybe he was ready now. Listening to Ron and Hermione made him wish that he had someone …

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," called Hermione, and she raced out of the kitchen and through the living room to the front entrance. "How are you?" heard Harry, as he settled into Hermione's comfortable sofa.

He glanced at Ron. Ron was frozen in the doorway, staring at the front door. Harry turned – to see Hermione, and – of all people – Anna. She was wearing a black dress that made her look three times taller than Hermione – _and very attractive._

Harry caught that last thought, and threw it away into a deep corner of his mind, throwing away the key. _There_.

"I – I thought it was just us, Hermione?" said Ron.

Hermione bristled, and Harry sighed inwardly. "I didn't know I had to tell you everyone I was inviting, Ronald."

"Right. Sorry. How are you, Anna?"

Anna flashed Ron a smile. "Well, thank you. Hello, Harry."

"Hello," said Harry.

Anna smiled at him, and something in his stomach did a great big flip.

Hermione was saying something about sleeping arrangements and ordering pizza. Anna put her bag down in the corner, and Harry remembered to stop staring. Anna sat down next to him on the other side of the sofa.

Hermione came back from the kitchen with the drinks. "There you are," she said, plonking the bottles down on the table.

"You don't drink, do you Anna?" said Harry.

"No." Anna shook her head. "I'm sorry Hermione, but I try to stay away from alcohol."

"Just once won't hurt," said Ron, pouring himself a glass.

Harry could see Anna's mind whirring, and she bit her lip.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," said Harry quickly. "It's up to you."

"I'll just have one," said Anna, with a little uncharacteristic giggle.

Hermione shrugged with a smile, and handed everyone glasses full of firewhiskey. "Here's to the New Year!"

"To the New Year!"

Glasses clinked. Wine flowed. Heads buzzed.

/

Fuzz grew and faded in the corner of the room.

The world

T

I

L

T

E

D

And then righted itself.

Harry's head was a brick wall. Then it was a boiling pot of water. Ouch. He wasn't making sense. He couldn't imagine how Hermione would feel. Hermione –

Hermione!

Harry sat up straight. He was lying on the floor in the passage. The front door was ajar.

He groggily got to his feet. The world lurched and then fixed itself again.

He peered into the living room. Ron was lying on the couch, asleep, snoring slightly.

Putting his head round the kitchen wall, his first thought was that the kettle was boiling.

The second thought was that he never wanted to look at food or alcohol ever again.

The third thought was an observation; Hermione was sitting at the kitchen table, her head in her arms.

Harry approached her, each step a pounding effort.

Suddenly, Hermione lurched up and glared at him. "Harry Potter, nice to see you're awake! Now that you're up, you can leave, thank you very much!"

"Now now, 'Mione," said Harry. He sat down at the table heavily.

"None of that!" Harry peered at Hermione from under his heavy eyelids. He immediately noticed that she was furious; the soft and rapid fury that meant he was _really_ in trouble. "You can leave! Right! Now! Both you and Ron!"

"What did I do?"

"Don't you remember?" she hissed. Harry shook his head. "Oh Merlin, remember, dammit Harry!"

Harry closed his eyes and searched his memory. Whisps greeted him, drunken, tipsy whisps of memories …

 _They are playing truth or dare. He doesn't know whose idea it had been, but they are playing it._

" _Truth," says Ron._

 _Hermione giggles stupidly. "Have you ever wanted to break up with me?"_

 _Anna points her finger accusingly at Ron. "You can't lie, I'll know if you lie!" she laughs._

 _Ron, although very drunk, looks sheepish. "Yes."_

" _Pardon?"_

" _Only once." Ron takes a gulp of beer. "And you don't gettoknowwhy. Who'snext."_

 _Hermione is glaring. She gets up to go to the bathroom, disappearing into the dark. Harry says, "I'll go."_

" _Truth or dare."_

" _Dare."_

" _Kiss Anna," says Ron, bursting into laughter._

" _Very well," says Harry. He turns to Anna. "Anna, do you consent to be kissed?" They are all laughing._

 _Anna's eyes are wide as they could possibly be. She closes her eyes and nods._

 _Harry leans in._

 _The kiss is wonderful._

 _After a moment, his face grows wet – he opens his eyes and is surprised to see that Anna is crying. Water is literally pouring out of her eyes. She is glaring fiercely._

 _He pulls away, and she –_

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

The kettle was boiling; a long drawn out scream. Harry groaned at the sound. Hermione hurriedly wiped away tears and got up to pour the water into a mug.

Harry snatched at the memories, but they were gone – ruined by a boiling kettle.

"I don't fully remember what happened," he said, rubbing his temples.

Hermione turned around. "You tried to kiss Anna, that's what happened." Her face was white with fury. "She didn't want to be kissed. Your forced her to kiss you. Ron put you up to it, he said the dare, but you. Kissed. Her."

"Hang on –"

"Don't hang on me." Hermione's voice was low. "You leave my house. You do not come back. You do not speak to Anna ever again. Do you hear me."

"I'll go, 'Mione, but that's not what happened –"

"OUT."

Harry hurriedly got up and left, as fast as his sore head would let him. He could almost feel Hermione's glare on his back.

 _What a way to welcome in the New Year,_ he thought, as he arrived with a crack outside his front door. The green paint on the door was peeling slightly, and he sighed. "Hope you're a good one, '99."


	24. 23 - too much tea is bad for thee

Hermione knocked on the door. The wood echoed back at her, and she bit her lip.

"You can come in."

She slowly turned the handle, and pushed open the door with a creak.

Anna was lying on the spare bed on her back, her arms spread out and her eyes staring at the ceiling.

Hermione bit back a sob. "They're gone. They've left."

Anna didn't reply.

"I'm ... I'm so sorry Anna ..." A tear slipped down Hermione's cheek. "I never would have thought that Harry would have done such a thing ..."

Anna gave a great sigh, and sat up. She patted the bed next to her, and Hermione sat down.

Anna's arms went around Hermione. "It's okay," she whispered. "You couldn't have known."

"But I should have! Am I really such an awful judge of character?" She cursed. "I could kill that boy. I could, if he were here."

"But you did the right thing." Anna closed her eyes, and a tear trickled out, caught from under her eyelids. "Thank you."

"Oh Anna, don't cry!" Hermione started to sob. "My friend - he's no longer my friend. Harry isn't my friend anymore. He's gone."

"Oh Hermione..."

"He's gone!" Hermione was on her feet now. "Both of them are gone! If that is how they treat women, how they treat girls, then they can leave. They aren't worthy my time _or_ my tears."

"It wasn't just that," whispered Anna. Hermione froze. She knelt in front of Anna, and bowed her head, waiting to hear ...

"What else happened, Anna?"

Hermione could see Anna biting her lip. "Harry told me that I wasn't worthy your friendship. That I am a stoic statue, who has no emotions or life in me. Then ... then Ron said that if I didn't back off from you, he would see to it that I would. He was jealous ... he threatened me, Hermione!" Hermione was getting up, backing away. "Hermione! He told me that I was too close for my own good! Hermione?"

Hermione was shaking her head, slowly. Thoughts were spiralling around in her head. Even if Harry had done that, surely not Ron ... Surely he hadn't known what he was doing ...

"Hermione! Ron and Harry hurt me ..." Anna's body wracked in sobs.

"Ron wouldn't - he couldn't ..."

"Well, he can, and he did," said Anna fiercely, through her tears.

And something in Hermione broke. She knelt again in front of Anna, her head in her friend's lap. Tears dropped out of her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Anna's thin hand gently stroked her hair. "It's okay," she said. "You don't need them."

Hermione gave a little sob.

Anna smiled. "You've got me."

/

"What the flip is going on Harry?" yelled Ron.

Harry just sighed and shook his head.

"Surely Hermione wouldn't believe the accusation of her _office assistant_ over us!"

It was a week later. Hermione had been ignoring all of Ron's creative attempts at communication. The final straw had been when Ron, dressed as an owl, had arrived at her office door with a letter. She had opened the door, and then glared, shutting it in his face. "I don't want to see you again!" she had yelled through the door. A rejected Ron had stormed over to Harry's, ignoring the understandable stares of the ministry workers at his costume, and had proceeded to vent his emotions in Harry's living room.

"Her _office assistant_ , Harry! She's known us for how long? And she chose to believe that slimy, sneaky git over us!"

Harry sighed again, and unfolded his arms. "Look Ron. I don't know what's going on, but something is obviously wrong with Hermione."

"Obviously!" scoffed Ron. "Mate, Hermione is clearly being manipulated. That Anna probably works for You-Know-Who ..."

"Voldermort is dead, Ron," said Harry. "You know he's dead."

"He's dead, but maybe all his followers aren't!" glared Ron. "You know how many of them are unaccounted for ... there's Yaxley, and Mars, and Gin- and heaps of others," he added, biting his lip.

Harry gave a sigh. "Look Ron, we both know Ginny's still out there. It's time we face it."

"Yeah." Ron shook his head. "It's just ..."

"I know." Harry shook his head, and got up from the couch. "How about a walk? Unless you have more to say?"

"I have plenty more to say," muttered Ron. "But I guess it can wait."

"You can let it out as we go," said Harry, distracted by a sudden tapping at his front window. "Mail."

The little owl was holding an assortment of letters, as well as The Daily Prophet, done up with a red ribbon. Harry sorted through the letters, chucking them onto his kitchen table. "Just bills," he muttered. "Bill, bill, auror meeting next week - " he flicked his wand, and a new entry appeared on the calender next to the kitchen sink. "An invitation to a wedding, five fan letters, and that's it!"

"Why on earth are you subscribed to The Daily?" asked Ron, picking it up. "It's a load of tripe, as it always has been, and always will be!"

"I'm not subscribed to it," shrugged Harry. He flicked his wand again, and his shoes appeared on his feet, tying themselves up with a bow. "They just send it here anyway."

"Rubbish," muttered Ron, untying the paper anyway. He opened it with a flourish, and gave a great gasp. "You have got to be joking ..."

"What?"

There on the front cover of the Prophet, in great gold sparkling letters, sang the words, "The Chosen One Abuses Innocent Ministry Worker!" Below the title lay an article filled with the story of what had happened in the new year. A picture of Anna, taken from behind, showed a sad, dejected women abused by the power of Harry Potter. The front cover promised plenty more juicy content within.

Ron set the paper on fire with a barked spell, and Harry straightened his robes. "Just like old times," he said bitterly.

"That can't have been Hermione," said Ron, shaking his head, fear tinging the corners of his eyes. "It can't have been. She wouldn't."

"Only one way to find out," said Harry.

/

Hermione's office door slammed open. Hermione looked up from her letters; Anna was striding in, her face full of anger. She slammed The Daily Prophet in front of Hermione. "This. _Wasn't_. _Me_."

Hermione picked up the Prophet, her hands shaky. "What ... how ..."

"It wasn't you, of course, and if it wasn't me, then it means that there's a spy in the Ministry," said Anna bitterly. "They must have heard us talking about it this week."

"I ... can't believe ..." Hermione stared at the headline. It grinned maliciously back at her. She could feel her heart drowning in her head. "This is awful, Anna!"

"It's no longer between us," said Anna. "It's a matter for the World of Magic now."

"Oh Anna," said Hermione. She looked at the blonde witch; her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Anna."

"It's okay," said Anna, her eyes sympathetic. "Here, I made you some tea." She flicked her wand, and a mug came floating through the air, landing gently on Hermione's desk. "Drink it, it'll help."

Hermione took a cautious sip, and a great calm settled on her at once. All was still. All was ... all was good. She smiled at Anna. "Thank you."

There was a great commotion at the door; it burst open. Harry and Ron were in the doorway, being physically held back by three ministry workers. A spell was cast; the ministry workers were pushed backwards, and the door slammed shut.

Ron and Harry got steadily to their feet. Hermione blinked at them; tiredness pulled at the edge of her vision.

"You shouldn't be here," Anna was saying. "Not now!"

"You little liar," hissed Ron. "You little sneaky liar! Hermione, surely you don't - you can't believe all this, what's going on ..."

"Leave!" Anna was saying. "Please just leave!"

"We can't until we find out what's going on," cried Harry. "Hermione - Hermione, you okay? What on earth is wrong?"

"Hermione!"

"Hermione!"

"She's fine, just leave, quickly before you're caught!"

"We're not leaving!"

Hermione smiled at Harry and Ron, then. She felt strong. The shouting was loud, but she was stronger. She was stronger than their betrayal. "I didn't tell the Prophet," she said, and the shouting subsided. "And neither did Anna. But I think it's what you deserve." She looked at Anna, and Anna smiled warmly back at her. Hermione knew she had been right. She smiled, and took a sip of her tea. The calm grew; it warmed her very soul. "You can go now."

"We're not going!"

With a crack, the mug of tea exploded in her hands; Hermione gave a cry as blood trickled down her hand from the broken shards. Blood and tea. Blood and water ... She cursed them, rising to her feet with wand in bloody hand, just as the door was finally broken open, and an Auror declared, "Harry Potter, you are under arrest for the abuse and attack of Anna Hendraya!"

There was a lou G, as Harry broke the window in the office, and both he and Ron leapt out of it. Aurors rushed to the window, cursing the wizards as they flew away, both clutching onto summoned broomsticks, flying away as fast as they could.

The bustle grew thicker, and the shouting grew louder in the small office. Hermione looked down at her bloody hand, and glanced at Anna for support. Anna gave her a hug. "You did good," she whispered.

Hermione stuffed her face into Anna's shoulder, and smiled.

Everything was calm. All was good.

It took twenty minutes for the Aurors to leave the office, after fixing the window and promising further investigations into catching Harry Potter and his notorious friend Ronald Weasley. Hermione was at last able to sit down at her desk; Anna knelt next to her, applying dittany to her injured hand. "You did good," she could hear her saying, through the calm in her head. "You did good, my dear."

"I suppose I must get back to work," said Hermione, as firm as a rock.

"Yes. What were you doing before I interrupted?"

"I was just replying to this letter." She picked up the parchment on her desk, and handed it carefully to Anna. "It was for the accommodation of an Ella Stilt. She's going back to work for the Order." Hermione pointed to the address on the paper. "She moves there on the 16th. In a week."

"I see."

"Yes." Hermione gave a happy sigh. "You can send that letter, please."

"Of course." Anna placed her hand on Hermione's shoulder. "It'd be my pleasure." She got up to leave -

"And Anna?"

"Yes?"

Hermione felt the calm wash over her. "Get me some more of that tea."

"Of course," said Anna. She gave a great, joyful smile. "You rest now."

"Yes." Rest ... Hermione sunk into it, into that great calm that called her. She let go...

 _Everything is good._

/

 _Review? xx_


	25. 24 - a fogged brain

Anna burst into the room in a blaze, her robes spreading out behind her like wings. "I'm sorry, Yaxley," she said, sweeping into the seat in front of his desk, "But I've got something good."

"You'd better," growled Yaxley, clearly not appreciating the interruption. "I'm have fifty attacks to plan and fifty attacks to cover up, and no time to deal with your rubbish."

"Oh, you'll like this." Anna pulled a copy of Hermione's ill-fated letter out of her robes and slammed it down on the desk. "Remember Ella Stilt? The attack I botched last year? Well, she's back for working for the Order, and this is where she'll be in a week." Anna pointed at the address on the letter.

Yaxley stared down at the letter. "Are you sure this is it?"

"Positive."

"Good. Well, we'll plan a full attack. The day she moves in; next Sunday. You'll lead it, and you'll finish it."

"There'll be Aurors there." Anna pointed to the letter; Hermione's neat cursive clearly wrote, _The Order will help you to move in, of course. They are happy and excited to have you back among them._

"Well, I'll come along too, then," said Yaxley. He smiled; a long smile, stretching from ear to ear. "We'll bring along some of the best we have. But you're to finish her, okay? You're to polish Stilt off."

"Are you sure?" Doubt tinged in Anna's mind. "You sure you trust me to do that?"

"This will be the final test," said Yaxley. "The final test to prove that you are ready."

Anna laughed; a cold, high sound. "You said that getting Hermione eating out of my hand would be the last test!"

"Get out of here," cursed Yaxley. "I don't want to see you again till Sunday, kapeesh?"

"Rubbish," said Anna, and got up to leave, her robes trailing behind her.

Yaxley shook his head, and looked at Hermione's letter again. _What perfect timing_ , he thought, licking his lips.

/

"Harry. We have to do something."

"I _know_ , Ron!"

The Weasley house was empty, except for Ron and Harry, pacing in the living room. Molly was out for the day in the city, and Arthur was at work. The once busy house felt strangely desolate. Harry would have preferred for them to seek refuge somewhere else, but according to Ron, there was _nowhere_ else. "They won't look here," he had said. "It's too obvious."

And so Harry and Ron were hiding from the Aurors in The Burrow.

"She wasn't right," said Ron, shaking his head. "She just wasn't right."

"Her eyes were glassy," said Harry, after a moment.

"If that woman drugged her – " Ron cursed under his breath.

"We need a plan," said Harry. "A plan to get her out."

"Easy. Go in and shoot up everything and grab her and go."

"We just tried that," pointed out Harry. "It didn't exactly work. All that happened was that we got arrested and then resisted arrest, making us now wanted criminals."

"Fun times," muttered Ron. Then he burst into a tirade of cursing. "Bloody hell, Harry, what's that Anna woman gone and done to my girlfriend?"

"I don't know. But we need a plan!"

"I'm trying to think!" bellowed Ron. "It won't bloody work! Hermione – she makes the plans, not us!"

There was an echoing silence, broken only by the solemn ticking of the old clock.

"I know, mate," said Harry at last. "But I just don't know what we need to do."

Ron shook his head, muttering curses under his breath. Suddenly, he froze. "Harry …"

There was a loud banging on the door. "Open up!" came the cry. "Open in the name of the Ministry!"

There was a crash as the door came flying down. Ron seized Harry's arm, and with a crack the two of them apparated away –

They landed, stumbling, in a large clearing. Birds erupted from the trees, protesting loudly; the sun beamed down. It was a happy, warm day. Harry looked up into the sky – the place felt familiar …

"It's near where they had the World Cup, back in Fourth year," said Ron, leaning down after the effort of apparating. "The first place I thought of."

Harry nodded. The place felt serene; not an obvious hideout of wanted criminals. "You know," he began, "I feel like by running away, we made things a whole lot worse."

"Why don't you just use those The-Boy-Who-Lived powers?" demanded Ron. "Get us out of this stupid hole that we're stuck in? Prove that Anna was lying?"

"And that will do what, exactly?" returned Harry. "We know that Anna is probably an old Death Eater or something. She probably has plenty of spies in the Ministry and in the Daily Prophet. Getting out of this arrest won't help at all."

"Then let's bloody blow something up," said Ron, face red, hands clutching his wand.

The world grew brighter. Harry felt his Gryffindor blood soar through his veins; he clutched his wand tightly, and straightened his glasses. "Let's go and get Hermione."

Just then, there was a yell from the distance. A loud laugh echoed its way through the trees. Ron looked at Harry; Harry darted his eyes around him, and then jumped up a tree, pushing his way through the branches. In a moment, the two of them were safely perched in the tree.

The laughing got closer. The light dimmed slightly, and the birds flew up from the trees as one.

A man stepped into the clearing. Harry looked at Ron, terrified; the man was wearing a dark mask. Ron slowly put his finger to his lips, and Harry nodded. He turned back to the clearing.

It was slowly filling with people in masks. Soon, there were about twenty of them, talking in hushed voices. The man who had arrived first – the one with the loud laugh – was hovering between groups, occasionally letting his laugh out, before being hushed.

Suddenly, there was a great crack. In the middle of the clearing appeared a man, holding a twisted wand. Rather than smooth and straight, this one was more like a branch – it had three twigs branching off the side, and was shaped in a spiral. Small sparks puffed off its ends.

Silence filled the clearing. Harry's breathing felt loud; he tried to hold his breath and clutched tightly to the tree.

The man in the middle of the clearing deliberately placed his wand high in the air, above his head.

A great funnel of sparks and smoke came out of it in a whoosh, heading straight for the sky.

A Death Eater's Mark appeared in the sky, hovering above the clearing.

"The Dark Lord has returned!" hissed the man, his voice carrying through the clearing and into the woods beyond.

"All hail his name!" returned the people in masks, in perfect sync.

"Prepare yourselves," said the man. "This time we _shall_ be victorious."

"Victory is ours!" said the masks in unison.

"He will call on every one of you to make his name known!"

"He will be known!"

"He is great, he is power!" and with that, the man apparated with a crack. One by one, the rest of the masked people apparated.

The clearing was empty again.

Harry and Ron looked at each other in horror. The Death Eater Mark hovered in the sky, gently shimmering in the wind.

"We have to leave," said Ron.

"Where to?"

"I don't know. But we need to hide for a bit. Stay out of sight. We'll be blamed for this."

"I agree," said Harry. "Let's go to … um…"

"Hog's Head," said Ron.

"Good," said Harry.

With a crack, the two of them apparated away.

/

Anna sat up straighter. She pushed and pushed herself to sit up as high as she possibly could.

The tea she had made was now sitting in front of her, waiting to be drunk.

Hermione was sitting in the office next to her, slowly working away at her letters in a stupefied, drugged state.

Anna should have been proud of her work.

She should have been proud of the way she had brewed an obedience potion from scratch and fed it to Hermione, with no possible way of it every being traced back to her.

She should have been joyful.

But instead, she just felt … empty.

She felt as if she was in a trance.

She slowly shook her head, and she gave in.

She thought back to her life Before. She had told everyone that she remembered _nothing_ from it.

Well, that was a lie.

Here she was, sitting at a desk that she hated, in a Ministry that she hated, working for a mudblood that she hated, and she was lying to herself.

She allowed herself to go back there. Just for a moment, to go back to the memories she neglected.

The memories she still had …

 _The first memory:_

It was happy.

There was a flash of red hair and a smile from a faceless person. She didn't know who this person was; only that it must have been her friend from Before, and that it was a happy memory.

There were only two other memories.

 _The second memory:_

It was still and cold. Something was crawling, sweeping, dashing into her chest.

She was choking. She was dying.

And then, she was still…

Anna blinked, and was surprised to find her face was wet. She wiped the tears away hurriedly, glad that she was alone in the foyer. She had found herself crying a lot lately. "No more tears, no more _tears_ …" she whispered to herself. "No more tears, no more tears, no more tears, no more tears …"

With a breath, she let herself sink into her third memory from Before.

 _The third memory:_

 _A smooth, dark stone. It holds meaning that she does not understand._

 _A figure, cloaked in black. A promise made, a promise she'll keep._

 _A deep dark hole; colour swirling in the air._

 _A great big clearing, in the middle of the forest. Slow chanting in the sky._

 _A fallen boy._

 _She kneels beside him. He is dead …_

 _But then he opens his eyes._

 _And all is well again._

Anna brought herself up out of the memory with a gasp. Tears were streaming out of her eyes, uncontrollably. She cursed herself – why did she have to give in? Why did she have to revisit that moment? She closed her wet eyes.

Mentally, she opened the door in her brain marked 'Before'. She threw in all three memories, and closed the door. She locked it. She threw away the key.

She opened her eyes –

And water dripped down her face, into her tea.

Her drink was now cold, and she sighed.

 _Come on Anna._ She cursed under her breath. _No more tears._

/

It was Saturday night, and The Hogs Breath was slightly chilly. Harry, darkly hooded, was sitting at a table in the corner, staring at the wand in his hands. It was a good wand; it worked well. He put it in his pocket and took a sip of his gin.

He shouldn't have ordered the gin. it was taking him back to places that he didn't want to return to. To people … _to a person_ … He cursed, and pushed the drink away.

Ron was upstairs, fast asleep already. Alberforth had given them a place to stay until the Prophet died down; until it ceased its daily yellings of "How Long has Potter been Corrupt?". The Hogs Breath was starting to fill with people; darkly cloaked people, whispering people, just-needing-a-drink people. Harry knew he shouldn't be down here, but it was fine – as long as he didn't into trouble. No one would recognise him. He sunk further into the dark corner of the pub.

The door opened; just one glance up was all it took Harry.

It was Anna.

And she looked terrible.

Her eyes were dark, and it looked like she had recently been crying. She obviously had not slept in a very long time. Her robes were pulled around her in an uncharacteristic mess, and her hair was a bird's nest of unbrushed blonde strands. Harry watched as Anna made her way through the pub, hands deep in pockets, eyes slightly vacant. He shuffled further back into his corner, praying she wouldn't recognise him.

Anna was walking without thinking. If she had tried really, really hard, she probably would have been able to discern that the fact that she couldn't think _may_ be related to the fact that she had felt in a dream all day; that she felt ill, that she had been having nightmares. That she couldn't look Yaxley in the eye. That her confidence was sapped. It felt as if her emotions were having a battle that was outside of herself.

She trudged through the bar, trying to think, trying to think something, anything …

 _Merlin, Anna, think!_

She realised she had stopped walking. She was standing in the middle of a pub; she could feel eyes staring at from all directions. She cursed under her breath, and mindlessly sidled into a seat –

Only to realise that there was someone already sitting at the table, across from her.

She cursed again. "Sorry, Merlin, I don't know why I sat here."

The stranger was looking down, avoiding her.

She peered at him from through the fog of her brain. Then she cursed again. "Harry Potter. I was just leaving."

He looked at her then – she could just see the rim of his glasses from under his hood. His green, green eyes. The thin white scar on his forehead. "Why are you doing it?"

It took her a moment to remember what he was talking about. _Oh, the merciless mind-washing of his best friend_. But even that thought, that should have made her proud and joyful, brought nothing. She thought nothing; she couldn't physically think of anything.

"Why?" Harry repeated.

Anna looked at him, wishing that her cold blue eyes would do their job; they hadn't failed her yet. But instead of being intimidated, Harry was merely looking blandly back at her.

She had no energy. She was simply numb.

"The Dark Lord is returning," she said. "You know this yourself."

"Why don't you call him Tom?" said Harry, bitterly. Anna shuddered despite herself. "That is, after all, his actual name."

Harry looked at her, and Anna felt herself shrinking under his gaze. She tried again. "He will destroy you, Potter, once and for all. And you will wish that you had never been born."

Although these words should have brought her comfort, they only brought her … emptiness. Or, rather, the absence of _anything_.

"That's already been done before," said Harry. He smiled; sarcastically, Anna thought. "There's nothing new under the sun."

"I could tell the authorities that you're here," said Anna, frantically. She was losing control, she could feel it. "They'll come and get you, before you can go."

"Don't bother with the anti-apparation spell," said Harry. Anna bit her lip, and ceased casting it. "I won't leave. But you won't call the authorities."

"You may be the Boy-Who-Lived, but you can't escape trial."

"I _am_ the Boy-Who-Lived," said Harry. He leant forward. Anna could almost feel his breath on her face. "I've been on trial before. I don't bloody care."

He leant back, and took a sip of his drink, his eyes remaining on Anna's.

She tried to think of a response, but there was nothing. Nothing in her mind that she could bring forward. So she leant back, and folded her arms.

Harry was raising his eyebrows at her. She blinked back at him.

"So?"

"So what?"

"Can I get you a drink?"

Anna blinked at him. The arch enemy of the Dark Lord, buying her a drink? _How the turn tables… I mean …_

"What do you want?"

"Um … a tonic water?"

Harry looked at her oddly, and she thought that he wasn't going to do it. But he finally clicked his fingers. "One tonic," he said to the notepad, which was floating next to his ear.

One moment later, a tonic arrived in front of Anna.

She took a cautious sniff.

"I don't know what you're scared of," grinned Harry. "It's just a tonic."

"How do I know that you're not trying to kill me off?" returned Anna. She took a sip of the drink, and felt it tickle her tongue. The numbness was still there, but it was slowly being overpowered by something stronger. Something …

"I ordered a gin," said Harry suddenly.

Something tingled in the air. Old memories snatched at the corner of Anna's brain. She could feel her locked door of Before shaking and rattling away.

Harry was still looking at her. He was leaning forward. There was a rush of cold air, and Anna felt herself gasping. "What …"

He was close to her nose now; she could count his freckles. _One, two, three, four …_

His lips were on hers.

She was kissing. Harry. _Potter_.

It was an urgent kiss, desperate, filled with something that she couldn't explain. She returned it harshly, teeth clanking -

Harry pulled away. "You're crying," he said.

"No I'm not," said Anna, but it came out in a whisper, her voice caught in her throat. She felt her face. Tears were falling, uncontrollably, out of her eyes. She gave a gasp, and a hiccup. Water fell. "I can't stop!"

"Something's wrong," said Harry. "Are you okay?"

Anna couldn't feel a thing; her world was falling around her. Things dropped down on the edges of her vision, and Harry was becoming a blur …

His face twisted, and she imagined that he was laughing. Everything was upside down. Nothing was normal; everything was wrong.

With a great effort, she pulled herself away, and landed with a thump on the Malfoy's driveway.

Anna knelt, and she cried; uncontrollably.

Something within her ached so much that she could do nothing but cry.

Tears ran in a river down the gravel, and out, meeting the sea…

 _And then there was nothing._

 _/_

 _Okay so either you know exactly what is going on, or you have no clue! I, the writer, have no clue, and you may join me if you like! Let's have a partyyyyyy_

 _Review? xx_


	26. 25 - bloody stones

Hello. My name is Death.

You may have heard of me.

Those of you who are clever may have picked up that I am repeating myself.

Yes, well done to you. I _am_ repeating myself. I have already told you that I am Death.

But I have just popped in – popped my head around the door, so to speak – to remind you that this is not Harry's story.

This is not Ginny Weasley's story.

This is my story.

And I shall be the teller of it.

/

Anna did not sleep that night. Instead, she simply lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her body was empty of tears, but still some managed to escape out of the corner of her eyes. She had bitten her lip till it bled. Her mind ached.

When the knock on the door came at sunrise, she pulled herself to her feet and got her aching body into the shower. She washed, and brushed her hair, and dressed in a dream. She pulled on her Death Eater robes and tucked her Mask into her bag.

Today was the day when she would kill Ella Stilt, once and for all.

The large room in the Manor Dungeons that was used for dining was cold in the early morning. Other Death Eaters were up, murmuring amongst themselves as they ate breakfast. Anna ate in the corner, alone, desperately trying to build up her mind's defences; desperately trying to protect the fact that she had kissed Harry Potter last night.

Or had she? The night was a blur – of tears and half-forgotten memories. With an effort, she swept the memories into a room in her mind, and shut and locked the door. She would deal with it later. Today – today there was simply no time.

She jumped as a house elf tapped her on the elbow. "Yaxley wants you," it said. Anna nodded, numbly. She left her half-eaten food on the table – an elf would clean it up later – and made her way down through the dungeons, to Yaxley's office.

The Death Eater was sitting at his desk, his face stern.

Anna arranged her features to be emotionless, and sat down, carefully putting up walls to protect all her memories. Yaxley was not beyond using mind reading to get what he wanted.

She sat down in front of him. "You wanted to see me?" she said, her voice as steady as a rock.

"Anna." Yaxley shuffled his papers, and straightened his mug.

Anna quivered, and clenched her hands, checking her defences were in place.

"The Dark Lord – he is ready to see you."

"Pardon?"

"The Dark Lord wants to see you, and by see you, I literally mean this morning!" Yaxley was no longer stern; rather, his face was lit up in a huge smile. "Get yourself ready; we'll leave via portkey in ten minutes!"

"He wants to see … me?"

"He thinks that you are ready!" Yaxley grinned, and pointed his thick finger at Anna. "You'd better not fail me now!"

"I won't," said Anna, letting herself smile. "I can't believe …"

"Get your things," said Yaxley. "Go!"

/

Anna opened the compartment underneath her wardrobe.

A wand and a stone slipped into Anna's bag.

Then she thought better of it.

She used a quick sticking spell to stick the stone onto the inside of a pendant that she had nipped from Narcissa, and hung it around her neck. Then she wrapped the wand in a slip of silk, and placed it in a wand box, slipping the box into her bag next to her mask.

She looked at herself in the mirror.

Her face was deathly pale, and her eyes were still slightly red. Her hair was darker than usual – instead of a light blonde, it looked a little mousey. Her eyes were still blue, though.

Though they were not as cold as they should be.

Anna gave a nod to herself in the mirror.

The wand and the stone were all her problems in one. Maybe if she gave them to the Dark Lord, her troubles would finally disappear.

She nodded, and left her room.

She was ready.

/

Voldermort was facing the window when Anna and Yaxley entered the room.

They both bowed. The Dark Lord turned to face them, and Anna gave a great sigh of awe.

The Dark Lord was bald, and tall; his eyes were cold, and his face was snake-like. He was the epitome of evil. He was everything she had expected him to be.

"Anna," he said. He held out his hand. It was pale, and almost transparent, and Anna bent forward to kiss it. It was a cold, harsh hand.

She straightened herself, eyes downwards.

"You may leave us, Yaxley," said the Dark Lord. His voice was cold.

Yaxley gave a great bow, a dozen thank yous, and finally left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Anna had no doubt that he was listening in at the keyhole. She smiled, and looked right into the Dark Lord's eyes.

He was just as cold and awful as she had imagined him to be.

"You," said the Dark Lord, "Are special. Do you know why?"

Anna shook her head. She couldn't stop looking at him; at his eyes, at the sheer power that radiated off his very being.

"I have chosen you for my revenge." He moved, snake-like, around her.

Anna stood very still, not daring to move.

He stood behind her. "You are the perfect essence, and the perfect embodiment, of the force that will one day destroy the Ministry."

Anna looked straight ahead.

He came around her. His hand – so cold – reached up. His fingertips brushed her cheek. He held her face with his long, spidery fingers, and she felt his breath on her skin.

"I have done well. Yes, you will do very well."

He let go of her face, and stepped towards the window, turning to look out.

A great shiver went through Anna as he looked away. She struggled to stand upright; still feeling his hand on her skin.

"You have brought me something," the Dark Lord said at last.

It took Anna a moment. "Yes," she said. She felt inside her bag, and pulled out the wand box. The wand tingled through the box, onto her fingers; she knelt and held it out to her master.

"I brought this out of Before, with me," she said. "I do not know who I was Before, but it does not matter to me. I now give the last remainder of my past to you. Do with it what you will."

The speech that she had rehearsed for almost two years fell out of her, a little more flat than she would have liked under normal circumstances. But her mind was whirling. The Dark Lord raised a finger, and the lid disappeared from the box. He peered in, and a little hiss came from behind his teeth.

Anna looked in eyes, and all she saw was a great lust for power. A great hunger for the wand and what it would bring.

The Dark Lord bent his hand down, and …

The moment his fingers touched the wand, there was a great flash of _something_ in Anna's brain. She saw a hooded figure. She saw death, and ruin.

She saw a broken promise.

The Dark Lord had the wand now. He turned slightly away from Anna, feeling the wand and its power in his hands. "The Elder Wand," he muttered to himself. He pointed it at the window, and instantly the glass crumbled away.

Power filled the room.

Anna trembled uncontrollably.

The Dark Lord turned to her then. "You have done well," he said. The Elder Wand lay, strong, in his hands. "But there is something else you want to say to me."

He tilted his head.

Anna threw up her defences. She felt the black stone lying safe against her chest. It grew heavier and heavier on its chain …

She wasn't ever sure why she said it, but she said it.

"I only wanted to thank you for saving me. I would be dead without you. Thank you for creating in me a future which will last for years to come."

For a moment, she thought that he knew she was lying. She had just _lied_ to the _Dark Lord_. Surely he knew.

But instead, his face erupted in a smile – a cold, cold smile. "You have done well," he said. "I will call you again soon. But I understand that first you have to prove yourself to Yaxley. Do not fail him this time."

"I will not," said Anna.

"Good," said the Dark Lord. Then he turned around to face the glass-less window, and Anna understood that she was to leave.

She exited the room to a grinning Yaxley, and with a black stone lying on her chest, containing secrets that she could not begin to understand.

And she had just given it another one.

/

Godric's Hollow was cold and quiet. It was also raining slightly.

Charlie and another Death Eater, Samuel, were muttering to each other over sips of fire whiskey. Anna was standing next to them in the alleyway, trying to ignore their boasts of who had had the most kills that week. Yaxley was at the front of the group, talking to some more senior Death Eaters.

Anna shook her head at that morning. She shook her head at her memories. She shook her head at her brain.

The stone was cold, hanging on a cold chain, in the cold rain.

She wanted to throw it away, but she knew she couldn't. She couldn't figure out why on earth she had neglected to give it to the Dark Lord that morning. She'd have to give it to him the next time she saw him …

She couldn't not give it to him. That would be awful. A betrayal of his trust. A betrayal of the fact that she was alive.

The rain was stopping.

Yaxley raised his hand, and beckoned to Anna.

She went to him, her head held high. "Yes?"

"The plan," he said, "Is to shoot down the town hall. You see it, there? Across from where we are? Stamag here," he patted a grim looking Death Eater on the back, "Will do the destroying. He'll do it just as all the aurors and Stilt are going past. It's your job to find Stilt and finish her off. The rest of us will focus on the Aurors. Got it?"

Anna nodded. "Got it."

"Good."

It was but a few more minutes of waiting, before there was a loud noise coming from down the street. It was talking, and laughing, and yelling.

"Get ready," said Yaxley. The Death Eaters in the alley pounced, ready to spring.

"Steady."

The talking grew louder.

Anna closed her eyes.

She opened it to a grea G. The Town Hall of Godric's Hollow was collapsing in on itself, burying people in the rubble.

The world fuzzed around the edges. Anna closed her eyes again. Her head was thumping. She felt people pushing and tugging her, telling her to get out there.

There were yells and screams, as Death Eaters ran out into the Aurors. There were shouts of battle. There were yells of spells.

Anna opened her eyes, and found that she was sitting against the wall, alone in the deserted alleyway.

The smell of smoke made her cough; the ground shook with a loud explosion.

Her heart thudded in her ears. Everything was happening at once.

Suddenly, there was a loud shriek, and it seemed to Anna that the world stopped.

She knew that noise.

With a cry of anger, she leapt out of the alley, her fist tight around her wand. She shot spells in all directions, not caring who they hit; only aiming to get to the noise.

It was there, lying in the ruins of the town hall, out of sight of the battle, behind the last standing wall of the exploded building.

The battle raged just out of sight of them, but Anna knelt by the side of Ella Stilt, staring down at this girl …

Her body was broken, and blood oozed out from underneath her, sinking into the dirt. She struggled to cough, her eyes squeezed shut. Anna's heart cried. Something inside her ached …

"Hey!" came a call. Anna looked up from Ella. "Finish it!"

It was Charlie, the Death Eater, Yaxley's favourite. He was watching Anna, pointing a wand at her. "You can't do it," he said. "Let me."

"I'd like to see you try," muttered Anna.

Charlie glared, and shot a spell at Ella.

Something in Anna grew angry; angrier than she had ever been before. She gave a yell, and blocked his spell, sending several of her own back at him. He hadn't been expecting that. His eyes were open in surprise, and his mouth gaped, as a spell hit him, sending him flying backwards.

He landed with a thump on a rock, and was still.

The sounds of battle on the other side of the wall raged.

Anna shook.

Ella ceased coughing, and opened her eyes. She was frowning.

Anna brushed back the hair from Ella's face. "Ella," she said softly.

"Kill me," said Ella, with a great effort. "Finish … it."

"I can't! Oh don't you see, I can't!" And Anna gave a great sob. Tears fell out of her eyes, but she let them; they landed around her, mixing with Ella's blood in the dirt.

Ella frowned.

Then her eyes softened, and she finally understood.

"Oh," she said. "It's because of Ginny Weasley."

And she gave a great sigh, and closed her eyes.

Anna stared. Tears slipped out of her eyes, and she wiped them away angrily.

Ella was dead, and it should have been her who had done it – only it wasn't. It couldn't have been. It never should have been. She knew that now.

Anna gave a cry as a spell landed just above her head, hitting the wall.

With a crack, she apparated away –

And landed in the alley just outside the Ministry of Magic.

/

Hello.

It's me again.

Ella Stilt was the sort of Order Member who would shoot a Death Eater, then powder her nose afterwards. She would make a good cup of tea in a pink, porcelain teacup – and then slip a truth potion in and give it to her enemies.

Ella Stilt would have made a good Slytherin.

But maybe her stupid, stupid bravery is what made her a good Gryffindor.

The sort of bravery that would make her go back to the Order, even though she knew she'd be killed the moment she rejoined.

Humans aren't very clever, are they.

Anway.

Ella Stilt's soul was pink; a nice comfortable pink, with purple tinging the edges.

Her soul is lying in blood and tears; the most powerful mixture on earth.

I lift up Ella, and carry her gently away.

/

 _I'm lowkey out of breath after writing all that ahahha_

 _Review? xx_


	27. 26 - records and secrets

The Ministry Records were organised to the T.

Anna did not find it hard to find the record that she was looking for.

Trembling fingers searched through the cabinet; she slowly pulled out the "GW" section and scanned through it with wide eyes.

There it was, as clear as day. The one "Ginny Weasley".

 _First daughter and seventh child of Molly and Arthur Weasley. Born 11 August 1981, died 2 May 1998 at Battle of Hogwarts, age 16._

Simple. But not what she needed.

Anna felt water dripping down her face again.

 _Dammit_.

/

Hermione Granger was very good at distracting herself from things that she probably shouldn't.

Her primary method of doing so was her work.

For example, right now it was a Sunday. She had gone to work the day before, but Anna hadn't been there. Nor had she been there on the Friday, or the Thursday.

Hermione felt awake for the first time in days.

She also realised, as she woke up on that particular Sunday morning, that she was incredibly sad.

She missed her boyfriend, and she missed the comfort of Harry's friendship, and she missed Luna's odd yet comforting conversations. She missed Anna, too – Anna and her tea, and her whispered remarks over Ministry sandwiches. She felt as if she had woken up from a long dream, and had come face to face with a huge pile of work that she had neglected. It was quite awful. Her mind was very busy.

After Hermione had cleaned the house three times and made five burnt batches of cookies, she could bare it no longer. She decided to head into work. The fact that it was four o'clock on a Sunday afternoon was clearly irrelevant. Hermione packed her bag anyway, and apparated out the door.

The Ministry was quiet. There were a few workers about, but the usual hustle and bustle was absent from the large halls that Hermione entered into. She made her way to her office, and stood in the empty room, trying hard not to remember when Ron and Harry had come barging in … it was so vivid in her memory, unlike the last few days when she had struggled to remember a thing about the incident.

It was so unlike Harry, so unlike Ron …

There. She was thinking about it again. Hermione shook her head rapidly, and jumped up and down, and turned around in a circle. She laughed, exhilarated with the feeling of being alone in her office. No one was watching her. No one cared what she did, or said, or wrote, or thought.

But they would care if she forgot to file the papers that were sitting on her desk.

She picked them up, cursing her forgetfulness of the day before. She couldn't really remember a thing about that Saturday – or the whole week, actually – but she had obviously forgotten to take those files down to Records.

Hermione scooped them up and straightened her blouse. "Right," she said to herself, inspecting herself in the reflections in her newly-mended window. "Let's be off then."

And off she went, out of her office, down the lift and into the records halls.

The halls were large and spacious. She hurried to the front desk to sign in. "Nice to see you, Miss Granger," said the woman at the desk – a Violet, Hermione understood.

Hermione nodded. "Glad to have the place to myself!"

The woman shook her head. "Another lady just went in – Miss Hendraya, I understand."

"Anna?" said Hermione, so stunned that the lady raised her eyebrows slightly. "I mean – it's fine. Do you know where she went? I'd like to say hi."

"She asked where the death records were, so I'd say down there …"

"Thanks," said Hermione, and rushed off to the dark section of the records. Lines and lines of shelves filled the hall; Hermione glanced down either side as she strode through the room.

At last she spotted a wisp of blonde; stopping in her tracks, she headed down through the gap in the shelves. Anna was leaning over a drawer, a document in her hands.

"Anna?"

The girl looked up in a hurry. Hermione saw with a shock that she was crying; tears were literally falling out of her eyes.

"Anna! Are you okay?" Hermione pulled handkerchief after handkerchief out of her bag, and handed them to Anna, giving her a hug. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," said Anna, muffled. "I can't stop it. Something's wrong."

"What do you mean? What are you …" Hermione glanced down at the document in Anna's hands. "Why are you looking at that?"

Anna looked down at the document. Ginny Weasley's meagre description only filled a tenth of the page; the rest was blank.

Hermione looked at Anna, and saw that the girls face, although still a river of tears, was going extremely pale. "Are you okay? Anna, what's wrong?"

It was a moment before Anna said anything; clearly struggling to know what to say. "I'm not well, Hermione," she said at last. Tears dripped onto the floor. "Something is wrong. I need to know who this girl was, and why she was important."

Hermione sat with a huff on the floor, and leant her back against the wall of drawers. She patted the spot next to her.

It took a moment, but after a while the sobbing Anna sat down next to her. Their shoulders touched, and Hermione put an arm around her friend.

"Anna," she whispered, "It's all right."

"No it's not," sobbed Anna. Hermione's heart broke, and she rested her head on Anna's shoulder. "I need to know who she is and it won't tell me!"

"It's okay." Hermione looked down at her little brown hands, and gave a big sigh. "I knew her."

"You did?"

"I knew her well," said Hermione. "Very well. Or at least, I thought I did."

"What did she do?"

"I think it's more about who she was then what she did," said Hermione. She smiled a little. "She was Ron's sister, in the year below us. A proud Gryffindor. She was brave, and loyal –" her breath caught.

Anna was looking at her, her eyes wide, urging her to go on.

Tears streamed down her face.

Hermione took a deep breath, and went on.

"She was a good girl," she said. "But life wasn't always easy for her. Although her home was loving, it was small, and cramped, and she couldn't afford everything she needed or wanted. She was the youngest of six brothers, and was always getting into wars with them. Her first year at Hogwarts, she was taken over by Tom Riddle – he got into her head using a Diary, and she couldn't – Oh Anna, are you okay?"

Anna was sobbing; full on heart wrenching sobs. "I can't stop it," she cried. "Keep going."

"Oh-kay," faltered Hermione. She patted a heaving Anna on the back. "It was hard for her, but she got out of her first year with Harry rescuing her in the chamber. She lived a carefree, terrifying yet courageous life at Hogwarts up till her fifth year, when she and Harry started dating. He broke up with her just before the War really ramped up, though. She struggled a lot over that, I think."

"She did," Anna said, through her tears. "She did."

"Um, Anna…"

"Keep going," said Anna fiercely.

Hermione frowned, her heart weeping, but she tried to finish. "She was at Hogwarts all that awful year during the resistance – and then came the Battle of Hogwarts. She died in the battle, a worthy death. She was a wonderful girl, and I loved her."

There was silence. Anna had stopped sobbing; her face was in her arms.

Water flowed under the cabinet. Pain grew.

"No she didn't," said Anna.

"What?"

"She didn't die." Anna rose her face, and Hermione saw with a jolt that there were still tears streaming out of her eyes, although her face was grim and set. "Not at the battle."

"How do you – I mean…"

"What happened?"

Hermione shook her head, and pulled Anna into a hug. "I don't know," she said. "The Weasleys think that she had been Voldemort's right from the beginning, right from the moment he used his diary on her. I don't think that. I think that she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time … but there was some good in her all through school, and there is still some good in her now, wherever she is."

Anna grew limp in Hermione's arms, and she gave her a small kiss on the head, then pulled her closer. She could feel Anna's tears flowing into her arm, but she only held on tighter.

"I don't know what's happening," Anna muttered into Hermione's chest.

"It's okay," said Hermione. And it was.

Anna nodded into Hermione's chest.

Hermione pulled away, and looked Anna in the eye. "I'll keep you safe, okay?"

"Okay."

And the two sat there in silence for a very long time. Too many things were unsaid to say, but it was okay, because Hermione was going to look after Anna.

And that was what mattered, right then, in that moment.

It was after some time that Hermione shifted, and looked over at Anna. She was sitting next to her, her knees drawn up to her chest. Silent tears slipped down her cheeks.

She was fingering a necklace.

"What's that?" whispered Hermione.

Anna slowly took it off and handed it to Hermione.

The pendant … Hermione felt it in trembling fingers. It was cold and smooth as silk, and black – as black as the deepest night sky.

She knew what it was.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, her voice quivering.

"I found it."

"Where?"

"Why?" returned Anna. Hermione realised, with a jolt, that the tears had stopped.

Anna wiped her face with her sleeve.

"You don't understand," said Hermione, turning the stone over in her hands. "This – this is a Hallow."

Anna was silent.

"We went back for it," whispered Hermione, remembering the days after the Battle. Those awful, heart-wrenching days that rolled into each other. "We searched for it for weeks. It became Harry's obsession to find it. He only let go when he realised that Ginny wasn't going to come back." Hermione glanced at Anna. Her face held an expression that Hermione couldn't place…

"It's a Hallow," Anna whispered.

"Yes."

Anna looked at Hermione – and her expression was rigid with determination.

Hermione shivered despite herself.

"I know what we have to do to fix this," she said.

Hermione blinked. "You sure?"

Anna was on her feet now.

"What an idiot! How could I forget!" Anger and determination flashed in her eyes. "We'll have to hurry."

"And do what?"

Anna's eyes were pained and resolved all at once.

"We have to go and find Harry."

. . . . . . . .

Hermione had decided that they were both too exhausted and out of it to apparate, so they were taking the Bus to 12 Grimmauld Place.

The bus was bumping up and down the road; Anna glanced at Hermione. She was holding onto the side of her seat for dear life, her lips tightly set.

Thoughts swirled at the edges of Anna's mind.

Scraps of memories…

Back at the Ministry, she had remembered something.

She had remembered her third memory, her third memory from Before:

 _A smooth, dark stone. It holds meaning that she does not understand._

 _A figure, cloaked in black. A promise made, a promise she'll keep._

 _A deep dark hole; colour swirling in the air._

 _A great big clearing, in the middle of the forest. Slow chanting in the sky._

 _A fallen boy._

 _She kneels beside him. He is dead …_

 _But then he opens his eyes._

 _And all is well again._

But there was more.

There was more to her memory than just that. She had always known it; it had haunted her dreams, it had scarred her waking moments.

And in the dimly lit Ministry corridors, surrounded by records of people long dead, she had remembered it.

She closed her eyes …

 _A dark cloak. A cold breath._

 _A soul that wasn't hers. It was dark and terrifying and very very scared._

 _She hadn't expected it to be scared._

" _I will visit you once more._ _Return the Hallows where we met in the Forest. I will await you there when you have them."_

 _A deep deep feeling in her chest._

 _A whispered promise._

 _A promise that she must keep._

" _Return the Hallows or I will take your soul instead."_

A promise made Before … she did not know why. She did not know when or where or how.

But she was quite, quite sure that this promise was something that needed to be kept.

That it was at the root of everything that was wrong – her uncontrollable tears, the Dark Lord's cold cruelty, Harry Potter's intense power.

It demanded to be kept –

And she would keep it.


	28. 27 - wet, red weather

It was some time after five o'clock on a Sunday afternoon, and Harry was sitting on his bed, trying to enjoy his hot chocolate and book.

Harry was trying not to think about the day before. It had been a weird evening.

Kissing Anna? What had he been _thinking_?

The thing was, he considered, _I was thinking both very hard and not at all_.

Oh dear.

Harry took a sip of his hot chocolate, and tried to focus his mind back onto his book. It was an adventure story about a small boy learning Quidditch and saving small trolls from evil queens. It was the sort of book he would have greatly enjoyed when he was eleven. Even though he had never read it, it was making him feel quite nostalgic.

It was just the perfect book for a dreary Sunday afternoon, on the return from mistakes and things he'd rather not think about.

Another sip of hot chocolate.

Another page turn.

A great crash at his front door.

Magical sirens were unleashed. The book was thrown down, and Harry's wand was in his hand, and he was on his feet, heart thumping out of his chest.

He was just about to open his bedroom door when it was slammed open. Magic filled the room.

Harry was casting shields and spells faster than he could think. Dark people in cloaks, dark things with long cold fingers waving wands and casting spells; he was fighting for his life. Jab, jab, strike, push, jab. Step by step, he fought them out of his doorway, pushing them back down the stairs.

The narrow stairwell was on his side. The hundreds of defensive spells which the Blacks had set in place and which he had only _begun_ to remove were on his side. Acid spat out from holes in the walls, stairs broke and pulled the death eater down below – a long fall into the basement. Harry pushed and pushed and pushed his way down the stairs.

But he was tired. He was unprepared. There were so many of them.

And the house was done with fighting.

With a great sigh, it gave up its Master.

And Harry, with a spare spell, was knocked out from a single curse.

He fell, landing with a thump on his front carpet.

Long fingers seized him.

They apparated away.

And one – one remained.

His wand slowly carved a thin, golden scar into the carpet.

And he smiled.

Voldemort left, his power leaving with him.

/

Harry Potter's front door was partly open.

Hermione pushed it open slowly; it creaked and hung open angrily.

Magic hung in the air. Hermione crept outside, feeling Anna just behind her.

"Lumos." The light of her wand lit up the hall.

"Merlin," she whispered. Paper's were strewn across the floor. "Harry? Harry! Where are you?" She darted into the kitchen, and slammed into the living room. Pots and pans were strewn across the kitchen floor, glass shards covered cutlery on the benches. Broken plates crunched beneath her feet. Curtains and cushions in the living room were broken, feathers peeking out like dead things.

Hermione turned with a whirl back into the foyer, and sprinted up the stairs. She slammed into bedrooms, slapping doors open and shut. Harry's bedroom was a mess; paper was strewn up and down the stairs. There was a hole in the bathroom wall, and the mirror was shattered.

And on the floor - broken photo frames. Hermione knelt down and picked one up. It was Harry, and Gin - and Ginevra Weasley. And they were hugging. And the frame was shattered.

Hermione scowled, threw the frame back on the floor, and rocketed her way back down the stairs.

Harry was gone.

In the foyer, Anna was standing very still, staring down at her feet. "He's gone!" Hermione cried. "The absolute idiot - the Ministry has gone and arrested him, haven't they!"

Anna pointed a pale finger towards her feet.

There in the carpet, in a thin golden line, was the shape of a lightning bolt. A scrambled, hurried lightning bolt.

Hermione shook her head fiercely. Her mind was enormously clear, for the first time in months.

"Dammit," she whispered. "That sick - he deserved it though, hey Anna? After all that? Maybe prison is the best place for him right now. Especially after that fight that he must have put up."

"He didn't deserve this," said Anna softly.

"What?"

"He didn't deserve anything."

"Pardon? I thought he - after what he did to you!"

Anna shrugged softly, then looked upstairs. "What's up there?"

"Just bedrooms, bathrooms - a mess."

Anna was up the stairs before Hermione could blink.

Before she could follow her, the door was slammed open.

There was Ron Weasley, his red hair silhouetted in the setting sun.

"Hermione!" he said, surprised.

Hermione slowly lowered her wand from where it had automatically been pointing towards Ron's throat. "Ron!"

"What on earth are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you!"

"It's my best mate's house, 'Mione, I'm allowed to be here!" He stepped inside, took in the torn carpet and broken paintings, and swore. "What in Merlin's name - Granger, if you turned him in -"

"I did nothing of the sort," snapped Hermione. "If you must know, I'm here because Anna wanted to see Harry. But then -"

"That snake wanted to see Harry," Ron hissed through his teeth. He took a step towards her. "I suppose you fabricated another story and called the Ministry on him."

He was in her face now, towering over Hermione. "Ron..."

"Where is Harry?"

"I don't know! It was like this when we arrived!"

"I don't believe that trash for a second."

"Ron!"

"He's not here, is he?"

"No, but -"

"Then where is he?"

"Ron!" screeched Hermione, pushing Ron away from her with both hands on his chest and stumbling back, the door behind her now. "Stop it!"

"You stop it!"

"No, you stop it!"

"You're being an idiot!"

"You were the idiot!"

"I was the idiot?" Ron snorted so loudly that his nose could possibly have fallen off. "Who was the one who believed her office assistant's word over the word of her boyfriend, whom she'd known for years? Who was the one who believed her new employee even though she had been a known liar?"

"I ..."

"She drugged you, Hermione." Ron was standing very close again. "Look at me! It's obvious. Did you ever feel dizzy? Did you ever feel out of it? Do you want to know why?"

"Rubbish," said Hermione. "Get off it Ron!"

"I know what she did to you!" said Ron.

Doubts poked at the edge of Hermione's mind - but she dutifully ignored them, and instead screeched back at Ron.

It was a Sunday evening in the middle of London. A couple was yelling at each other, both right, and both wrong.

There is nothing new under the sun.

/

Harry Potter's bedroom was a complete mess.

Anna had found it easily. It was the room with the scratched door, varnish hanging in strips.

It also had a "Harry's Room" sign, written on an obvious tear out from a Chudley Cannon's magazine.

The blankets were on the floor, and glass from broken photo frames crunched under her feet.

She stepped towards the window - and her foot caught on the blankets. She caught herself with a gasp, and glanced down.

There, underneath the blankets, there was a glimpse of silver.

She squatted down gingerly, and pulled it out.

It was a beautiful, shimmery piece of material. She fingered it - and gasped.

Her hand had disappeared.

She shook it out from the material, and wrung it out.

She could see now - it was a beautiful cloak.

Memories hissed at her.

She folded it up carefully, and tucked it into her robes' pocket.

She turned, and headed for the door -

before her foot crunched on a photo frame.

She peered down at it - and immediately her head started to spin.

She was holding the photo in her hands.

She was squeezing it with all her might.

The broken glass was cutting into her hands.

Blood seeped onto the photo, matching the girls' hair.

The blood and the girl were one.

The boy was hugging the girl.

And she knew who the girl was -

(it had to be) -

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

And everything stopped, even time, in that very moment. And the darkness fled, and the light grew so strong that Anna could no longer bear it.

But then

There was a call.

Anna's tattoo glowed. She could feel it glowing and calling her underneath her long sleeved dress.

She was being summoned, back to the Manor.

She had to leave.

And the picture was slipped out of the broken frame, and tucked in with the cloak, and then Anna was sprinting down the stairs so fast that she could barely breath.

The secrets she carried in her pockets smiled smugly to themselves -

because that's what secrets do.

/

"I have to leave."

Hermione and Ron turned. Their faces were red from the yelling, and Hermione felt like she was about to cry.

Anna was standing on the bottom step of the stairs, her face as pale as pale could be.

"Where to? I thought we had to find Harry?" demanded Hermione, anger surging up through her veins. (Anger at Anna. Anger at Ron. But mostly anger at herself.)

"Running away while you still can!" snarled Ron.

"Harry's at the Malfoy Manor," said Anna. "Neville's is the safe place." Then she turned, and was gone with a crack.

Hermione and Ron could not physically move in shock.

"She's gone?"

"How did she know that?"

They were both looking at each other at the same time, eyes locked.

"I don't trust her," said Ron.

"She's changed," said Hermione.

"She's lied!"

"We don't have another choice!"

"What if he's not there?"

"Then we come back here!"

"We just don't know for sure!"

"You have no reason to trust me." The room stilled, and Hermione bit her lip as she added, "But I do trust her."

"You're an idiot, Hermione Granger," said Ron.

"I'm sorry."

"And I'm an idiot for trusting you." Ron sighed, and his wand was in his hand, and he looked ready to punch someone.

Hermione pulled her wand out of her pocket, and the corners of her mouth curled in a sad smile. "Just like old times?"

"Just like old times."

Ron held out his hand.

Hermione took it.

They apparated with a crack.

/

 _While writing this chapter I got really frustrated that it's hard to write people talking on top of each other. Which happens all the time in real life – I'm just not sure how to write it. Thoughts?_


	29. 28 - whisked away

Harry Potter was incredibly cold. His head felt like everything was falling to pieces all around him - only it wasn't, and everything was very much still and spaced out. He forced himself to sit up, but got stuck partway. His eyes were glued shut.

There was a great laugh from somewhere to his left. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and his heart started to work again.

Then the laughter grew.

It was all around him.

He forced his eyes to start seeing again.

He pushed himself up on his elbows.

All around him were Death Eaters staring down at him, cruel masks hiding their faces. Cackles filled the room.

The floor felt like it was caving in; Harry struggled to sit up – suddenly, a jolt of magic pulled him to his feet, holding him rigid.

His heart racing and unable to move, Harry tried to make out the masks leering at him from the shadows. They tilted and leered and jeered at him –

And suddenly, all was still.

Harry felt his feet lifted off the ground. He tried to move, thinking of every counter-curse he could, but he was stuck. Slowly, slowly, he was being turned around –

There, in front of him, was Voldemort.

Harry's heart gave a jolt up into his throat.

Voldemort was smiling gently, his pale, snake-like face tilting softly as he surveyed Harry. He was paler and thinner than Harry remembered, and his robes had red lining which glinted when he moved, but all in all, there was no mistaking that this was the Dark Lord.

Voldemort pulled his wand out from under his robes – Harry barely had time to notice that the wand looked vaguely familiar, before the spell was broken and he was in a crumple on the floor. Ignoring the aches in his bones, he jumped to his feet, fists clenched, glaring fiercely at Voldemort.

The wand – he knew it now. It had to be. How he had gotten it – Harry shook his head slightly. There wasn't time to worry about that. Voldemort was laughing, a long drawn out laugh.

"Harry Potter," he said. Harry shivered despite himself; he had almost forgotten the drawn out hiss of the Dark Lord's voice.

"What do you want?" said Harry through clenched teeth. "You were dead!"

"Way to state the obvious." Voldemort flicked the wand. Streams of blue fire flicked out of it, surrounding Harry and licking him at the edges.

Harry clenched his fists hard. Pain licked at his back and elbows as fire brushed him, but he would not make a sound, he would _not_. He would not give Voldemort the satisfaction.

Rust exploded in his mouth; he had bitten his tongue – his nails were digging through his hands –

And the fire disappeared in a moment. Harry made a great effort to stop shaking.

Voldemort held the wand in both hands. His long fingers were outstretched around it.

"Do you know what this is, Harry?"

Harry just glared fiercely.

"Of course you do. You know exactly what this is." Voldemort pointed into the air, and three spurts of blue flame erupted into the sky. "The Elder Wand."

The fire was rearranging itself into a Hallows. All the corners of the room were lit up now, blue flames reflecting off every surface.

"Would you like to know how I got it?" Voldemort's eyes glowed in the light of the blue flame that danced overhead. "Would you like to know how I'm alive?"

"I suppose you'll tell me, whether I like it or not," muttered Harry.

"A correct guess."

With a flick of the wand, the blue flames overhead the room disappeared. It turned back into dark corners and dark eyes peering out from the shadows.

"I found a servant long, long ago," said Voldemort. His voice was a steady hiss; his eyes did not leave Harry's. "She was in need of something, of someone – me. I helped her. Many years later, I found her again. She brought this to me."

A queer aching was growing in Harry's stomach, as if his soul knew what was coming.

"Come out," said Voldemort. Then, louder: "Come out!"

And out of the pool of death eaters, out of the shadows, stepped Anna.

Harry's heart dropped all the way to his toes.

Anna's eyes were narrowed, and she looked fierce. She glared at Harry with absolute hatred.

Harry felt, quite distinctly, that all his hope had left him. It had all been a ruse. She had been _His_ the whole time … he locked eyes with her, pleading with all his soul.

"Look at him," Voldemort was saying, "Look at his despair – he knew the whole time she was Mine, and yet he did nothing about it – don't you wish you had, Potter? Don't you wish you had? But I am far too clever for you. I will always win, Potter. Don't ever forget that. I will always win!"

Harry's eyes were still locked with Anna's. They were still full of hatred, full of despair. Full of anger.

Then, the unthinkable.

Anna was crying.

Tears were dripping down her face.

There was a shifting in the crowd. People were muttering.

Harry felt himself locked in a spell; he couldn't move again.

"What?" Voldemort was glaring; Harry was forgotten for a moment. "Girl!"

Tears were falling, Anna was looking down at her hands.

With a jolt, Harry realised that little freckles were appearing. Little brown dots, covering Anna's arms, and her hands, and her face … her blonde hair was turning red from the roots down, and, with a great cry, she fell down in a heap, her cloak covering her as she fell.

Then – she disappeared.

She was gone.

There was a sudden commotion as the room sprang to life – Voldemort was crying, "Find her!"

Then a lot of things happened all at once.

There was a great cry from what felt like all corners of the room – " _Astrapicus_!" Lightning flashed through the room, knocking down several people with a cry. There was a great shout from everywhere, and suddenly spells were flying in all directions.

Then – suddenly – Hermione and Ron were there, throwing spells at Voldemort, furiously fighting side by side. He was vaguely aware of various aurors appearing from all directions, but his eyes were focused on Voldemort. He was moving faster than anyone should be able to move, fiercely sending off spells. Ron and Hermione were furious, but Voldemort was faster.

Harry struggled to move with all his might, but he was caught in one spot, unable to move -

Suddenly, he felt the spell holding him rigid cease. He crumpled to the floor again. A spare spell hit him in the arm, burning up his robes. He gave a gasp of pain, and started to struggle onto his knees. A warm hand seized his elbow –

and Harry looked right into the brown eyes of Ginny Weasley.

He gave a great laugh of shock, and then choked as the wind was knocked out of him from behind.

The last thing he saw was a great pair of red eyes, wide eyed and frantic – Voldemort's cry echoed in his ears as he was whisked away.

/

Harry landed with a thud, falling onto the floor. His whole body ached, protesting as he struggled to his feet. He was vaguely aware of 'cracks' around him, as Ron and Hermione apparated in- he vaguely recognised this as Neville's living room, with its house plants evaporating off the windowsills.

Suddenly, he was caught up in a fierce hug. Hermione's chin, barely reaching his shoulder, digged into his muscle as she squeezed him tightly. "I'm so sorry," she was whispering. "I'm so so sorry."

Harry barely had the room to hug her back, as he was attacked from behind – Ron was joining the hug, surrounding them both with his big arms. "It's going to be okay," he was whispering. "It's going to be okay."

"He's back," Harry whispered, choking on the last word. Hermione squeezed him tighter, and Harry closed his eyes.

"I don't understand," Ron was saying. "But it's going to be fine, 'kay mate? We'll get through this, like we always do."

Harry nodded, his eyes squeezed shut. Maybe if he didn't open them, he wouldn't have to deal with this. With Voldemort. With the world.

They were just kids. It really wasn't fair.

"Any ideas how he survived, Hermione?" Ron was saying, squeezing them tighter.

But Hermione had frozen in the hug. She gently let go, holding Harry at arms length. "Look at me, Ron," she said.

Harry opened his eyes with an effort. Hermione was looking intently into Ron's eyes; he could feel Ron moving behind him, letting go of his back. They separated.

"I need you to be strong," said Hermione. "Please, Ron."

"What are you on about?"

"Please."

Someone cleared their throat.

Dream-like, Ron and Harry turned around, away from Hermione's terrified, intense look –

Right at Ginny Weasley.

It was a lot to take in.

She was a lot thinner, and a lot paler than she had been, but her eyes were fierce, and her freckles stood out in her skin like little suns.

She was looking both incredibly fierce and incredibly scared.

It was definitely Ginny.

Ron was taking a step forward. "What in the bloody hell?" he was yelling. Then he was pointing his wand at her, and she stared at him pleadingly, and Hermione pulled his wand out of his hand, and suddenly Ron was shaking Ginny angrily, violently, and Hermione was trying to pull him away, and Ginny was crying, and Harry felt his body laughing – he wasn't quite sure if he was dreaming or not. And then Ron was hugging Ginny fiercely and sobbing into her shoulder, Hermione was jumping up and down and crying, saying that she _knew_ it, she _knew_ it…

And the four of them were swept up in one big furious hug, laughing hysterically, not quite sure what was happening, or where their brains were.

And then the lights turned off.

Harry remembered then that he was in Neville's living room, and they had just returned from fighting a returned Dark Lord. He took a deep breath. Late afternoon sunlight was filtering in through the window, and shadows twisted behind Neville's plants.

The front door was opening. A man was standing, silhouetted in the sun, which was gently drawing its way to the horizon.

"Who's there?" he said. A wand was pointing at them, steady in his grasp.

"It's us, Neville, it's us!" cried Hermione, and the lights were on, and Neville was standing in his doorway.

"What are you doing –" he was saying, and then he spotted Ginny, and then: "What is going on?"

The four of them looked at Ginny, who took a hurried step back, her mouth open.

"So it really was Ginny," breathed Neville. "I thought I'd imagined it."

"How do we know it is, though?" said Ron suddenly.

"Pardon?"

"It might not be her. Polyjuice is real. This could just be Voldemort's sick joke." Ron pointed his wand at Ginny's throat. "How do we know it's you?"

"It's her," said Harry, before he could stop himself. He knew it was. But Neville, who was incredibly pale, was shaking his head, and Ron's wand was shaking middair.

"Oh Merlin, don't you dare tell me that you're not Ginny! Don't you darn dare tell me that you're not bloody Ginny, I can't take it, I won't stand it, I won't allow it, not today…" Ron was only silenced by Hermione's arm around his waist.

"I think we need to all calm down," said Hermione, her voice crinkling at the edges. "Ginny, what was the first thing you said to me when you met me?"

"Do we have to pay for the hot chocolate's?" said Ginny promptly. Tears were wobbling in her eyes, and she smiled with a laugh. "And then you said we didn't, how this was different from muggle schools! And I told you I was Ron's sister, and you said you should have known I was, from my jumper. I remember the jumper mum knitted you." She spoke quickly, earnestly. "It was grey with pink stripes, and you wore it everywhere. You loved the fact that mum hadn't knitted it with magic. It was a little connection between the muggle world and the magical world, and you loved those connections whenever you found them. And you still do," she said. "You still do…"

"How do you know she still does?" Ron said. His eyes were narrowed.

Ginny stared at him blankly. "Ron …?"

"How much do you remember?" said Harry gently.

To answer, Ginny reached into her robes. "I think this is yours, Harry." She gently pulled out a wand – the Elder Wand.

The room filled with silence.

Harry took it off her, and held it in his hands.

It was definitely the Elder Wand. There was no mistaking the power it held – he could feel it flowing through the wand, tingling his fingertips.

"I'm so sorry I took it off you," cried Ginny, staring earnestly round at them. "I don't know what happened – oh wait –" and her face was screwed up into frowns. "I do – I need it still – I have to take it back to Him –"

"You're working for him," gasped Hermione, at the same time as Ron and Neville pointed their wands straight at her.

"Who's _him_? For Merlin's sake Ron, put that down –"

"For You-Know-Who," snarled Ron. "For Voldemort. You have been, you always have been, ever since the Chamber."

"I haven't been!" cried Ginny. "I thought he was defeated, but he isn't – that was him we were fighting, wasn't it?"

"It was – and the question is, how did he come back?" Ron jabbed the wand in his sister's direction. "He'd been gone for a year, and then he turns up again –"

"A year?" Ginny screwed up her face. "No, no, no …" her face was in her hands, and she was shaking her head violently. "No, no, no, no…"

"It's been a year," said Hermione gently. "You were Anna for a year."

"She was Anna?" cried Ron and Neville, at the same time Ginny cried: "I wasn't _no one_ for a year – oh no, no, no,"

"Didn't you see her transform?" said Harry. "Didn't you see her change back into Ginny, Ron?"

"No, I was too busy fighting Death Eaters and saving your butt, actually," snapped Ron.

"Calm down," cried Neville, "Everyone just calm down!"

"What's the last thing you remember?" asked Hermione gently.

Ginny shook her head, her hands rubbing her face.

"Come on, we don't have a lot of time."

The memories of Voldemort creeped back into the room. Ginny shook her head again.

"I remember taking the wand off Harry," she said. "But I need it to give back to Death, not to Voldemort, Ron!"

"Who the bloody hell is Death?" demanded Ron. "A Death Eater friend of yours?"

"Shut up," snapped Hermione. "Go on, Gin."

"Then I remember … " Ginny looked down at her hands. "I remember … it's all so blurry … There are so many things … "

"It's okay," said Harry. "It's okay."

Ginny looked into his eyes for the first time, and memories flooded in … good ones. Quidditch and dates in Hogsmeade, and jokes shared over breakfast. He smiled grimly, and gave her a nod.

Her eyes softened, and she nodded back. Then she closed them, and screwed up her nose in an attempt to remember. "After taking the wand, I remember … turning up at the Malfoy Manor. And then I was on the floor, and everything was hurting, and for some reason your cloak was in my pocket, Harry, and I pulled it on to disappear for a bit. And for some reason there were Death Eaters everywhere – and there was Voldemort, even though he should be dead. And Ron and 'Mione were fighting him, and I slid behind him and got him from the back, and I got his wand."

She pointed at Harry's hand – he had almost forgotten, but he was still clutching onto the Elder Wand.

"Then I grabbed Harry's arm, and grabbed Hermione, and went the first place I could think of."

There was a silence.

"How did you know to come here though?" demanded Neville. "Why did you know to come here, when you didn't know Ron and Hermione would too?"

Ginny frowned. "I guess… I kind of knew I had to…"

"Because we spoke about it, before Anna left," said Hermione slowly. "Back at Harry's. Anna said that Neville's was the safe place. And that's why when Ron and I called in you and the aurors, Neville, we decided to meet at yours after."

"Who is Anna?" demanded Ginny. "Who _is_ she?"

"My question," said Ron, "Is how the Elder Wand got to Voldemort if you didn't give it to him?" he snarled. "Don't you see, Ginny? There's something wrong with your story. In fact, there's a whole year missing."

He was silenced by Hermione's hand on his arm, and Ginny's cry of disbelief. "Not a _whole_ year!"

"Over a year."

Her face was screwed up, and she looked like she was struggling not to cry.

"What else do you remember?" demanded Ron. "There has to be something!"

"There's … there are pieces … oh Merlin, that can't have been me!"

"Say it!"

"Just snatches of things …" She squeezed her eyes closed, as if she couldn't bear to look at them. "Shadows, and laughter, and tea – and Hermione, I remember you! I was working with you, and then there was green light, and death – and Death! Oh no …" Her eyes were wide open with a bang. "Harry, I forgot, _again_ , oh how could I forget!"

"Forget what?" Harry was saying, and Hermione and Ron were exclaiming at the same time –

And then the door opened with a bang. They all jumped and yelled …

But it was just Luna, her robes violently purple.

She looked around at them all, her eyes pausing on Ginny's. "Nice to see you again," she said politely, as if Ginny hadn't been missing-presumed-evil for the last eighteen months. Then she looked right at Neville. "He's back," she said. "And he's coming."

"How do you know?"

"Because he just destroyed my home," said Luna calmly, as if describing the weather. "I'm sure he's coming here soon. You don't have much time. The aurors are on their way, but they're trying to gather reinforcements first."

The room erupted into havoc. Harry felt Ginny's hand on his arm. "Harry," she was saying earnestly, "I have all the hallows."

"Pardon?"

Ginny pulled out a necklace from where it had been hidden beneath her tall robes. Harry gave a gasp as he recognised the pendant; it was the Stone. "Where did you…"

"I picked it up in the forest, the day you defeated Voldemort," said Ginny, her eyes desperate. "I've got the cloak in my pocket. And you've got the Elder Wand."

"We can use it against him!" said Harry in a harsh whisper. In the background he could hear the others fiercely making plans of defense. Voldemort could arrive at any second. "We can use the hallows! It's perfect."

"We can't Harry," returned Ginny, her eyes pleading. "I have to return them to Death."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"If I don't return them, he'll kill us, the both of us! I gambled your life on this –"

"Sorry, you _what_?"

"On the day in the forest," Ginny said slowly, "I promised Death that I would return the Hallows if he spared your life! He said as soon as I had them all together I had to return them, otherwise he would kill us both. And now I've got them, and I have to return them, the both of us. Please, Harry!"

"I'm sorry, you met _Death_?" Harry shook his head blankly.

"You're really not getting this, are you?"

"I've had a very long day, Ginny."

"Yeah, well, so have I!"

"And now we're about to be attacked again, so don't you think we should focus on that?"

"Harry, you know you're the only one who can defeat Voldemort," cried Ginny. The room was silent suddenly, all eyes fixed on them. "Don't you want to be alive for that?"

"I won't be if we don't focus on the task at hand!" Harry held tightly onto the Elder Wand in his hand. "All right Hermione, what's the plan?"

Then, before he quite realised what was happening, Ginny was trying to pull the Elder Wand out of his hand – Harry pulled it back, and she seized his elbow, and before he knew it there was a great crack –

And Harry found himself in the middle of a forest.

Ginny sat up next to him, and dusted herself off; leaves fell out of her hair. "Sorry about that," she said. A quick movement, and the Elder Wand was swept off the ground, into her hand. "You weren't exactly listening." Her eyes glinted cheekily.

Harry pushed himself up onto his elbows. "Where in Merlin's name –"

"Why, I thought you would recognise it, Harry!"

And Harry did, of course.

He knew exactly where they were.

The Forbidden Forest.

/

 _A noice long chapter for you all! We're getting to the end of things now, folks. Reviews will be taken great care of xx_


	30. 29 - squashed cabbages

Hello. It's Death again.

Did you miss me?

I hope you're well.

I would say I'm excited to finally meet you in person, except I know from experience that that statement doesn't tend to go down that well with the general public.

Anyway, enough about us.

Did you know that it was never Harry's job?

That's where Ginny got it _wrong_.

Harry had started the job. But finishing it – it was never his job to finish _that_.

Maybe that was why it hadn't worked the first time.

Harry had assumed a job that wasn't his to do – and had therefore failed.

Life is like that, sometimes.

A bit of a confusing mess, I mean.

Humans _do_ confuse me.

/

The Dark Lord was indeed dark. Not in his looks; he was as pale as the moon on a cold night. But the very air around him was dark.

It stank of death and power and things that should have been left to rot.

Neville's feet were firmly planted on his porch. His eyes did not glitter. His mouth was stuck shut.

His house was quaking in anticipation; the bones of the place were rattling.

The land was empty except for him, his little old house, and –

Dark things were creeping out of the shadows.

Voldemort was standing in his front garden. Cabbages in the vegetable patch were getting squashed under his robes.

Neville's mouth squirmed suddenly. Here he was, standing on his front porch, and Voldemort and twenty of his followers were stomping around on his vege patch.

Suddenly, the fact that he would never see another sunset didn't matter so much.

He would be the distraction and the decoy that the aurors needed. And it would be enough.

The silence grew. The Death Eaters were still.

Neville looked into the eyes of the Dark Lord. It was like plunging into an icy sea. There was only cold – and hate, the most hate …

He had to look away.

"Bring them out," said Voldemort. His fingers trailed through the air, coming to rest on the wand in his robes. He pulled it out – it was a long, powerful wand, but it was not the Elder Wand.

Neville held every atom in his body together and, through gritted teeth, said: "No."

Voldemort smiled. His teeth were small, and his smile was terror.

Then he froze, and his head moved. "They aren't here," he said.

"You're wrong." The words escaped before Neville realised.

The smile on the Dark Lord's face reappeared. "Then bring them out."

He flicked his wand. Neville felt a familiar searing pain run through him – he was on the floor, overcome by crucio, his voice was screaming …

Then – suddenly – there were yells. And cries. And screechings.

And spells were flying overhead.

The aurors had arrived.

Neville struggled up onto his elbows, and stretched out for his wand. He whispered a shield spell around him, and tried to look around.

He was forgotten on his porch. In front of him, Death Eaters were duelling aurors who had appeared out of nowhere.

From behind him, he heard the front door slamming open. It was Ron and Hermione, and Luna, sprinting out of the house, charging into the battle – they ran past him, but Luna stopped and knelt at his side.

She seized his hand and pulled him to his feet.

"You can do this!" she said. Her eyes were blazing bright with excitement. Spells were flying around her, blowing her hair in all directions. "You have to."

She twisted round in a rush, firing off spells. Neville blinked away the haze and lifted his wand, starting to call out spells, firing round in circles. Death Eaters were appearing out of nowhere, and Ron and Hermione were out of sight, but Neville kept firing, not daring to stop.

He couldn't stop.

/

The Forbidden Forest was forbidden for a reason, thought Harry, as he pushed his way through the undergrowth.

He could hear Ginny trudging along behind him. Every now and then she would mutter a 'straight here', or 'left at this tree'. He could feel the power of her wand pointing at his back.

The sun had just set, and it was just getting dark enough to make sight a difficulty. Behind him, Ginny whispered a 'lumos'. She pointed it at the trees in front of them.

"We're almost there," she said. "You okay?"

"Fantastic, thanks for asking." Harry stopped. He folded his arms. "I just got whisked off by a previously-presumed-dead Weasley, leaving my friends in dire peril, not to mention Voldemort is left without the only person who can kill him. Other than that, all is just _wonderful_." He turned around to glare at her.

Ginny's smile faded slightly, but her eyes remained determined. "You know you have to come with me," she said. The wand pointed at him. "You know you have to."

"If you were really Ginny," said Harry, "You wouldn't be pointing that Elder Wand at me."

"If I were really Ginny," she said, "I would do anything it took to save your idiotic skin. Even if that meant threatening you with violence."

She gave him a bright smile.

He glared fiercely.

She gave the wand a little wave. "Move, please," she said. "As I'm sure you're aware, we don't have a huge amount of time. We have to get the Hallows back before Voldemort is defeated, otherwise we'll have to die. There's no way around it."

Harry didn't move.

" _Move_."

There was a little zap of silver out of the wand. Harry felt the heat on his skin.

He turned, and moved.

"Left at this tree."

Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets, and powered past the tree.

What an absolutely stupid predicament.

He could just _feel_ them missing him at Neville's.

/

Voldemort was in the middle of his Death Eaters.

They were fighting around him like flies, and he was standing tall in the centre, the aurors surrounding him, shooting off spell after spell.

And into the middle of it all stormed Neville.

His eyes were blazing, and his fist was clenched around his wand. It was shooting off spell after spell, and he was dodging spell after spell… Aurors were dodging out of his way, and a Death Eater fell at a particularly harsh stunning spell.

There was Ron, at his side, building a shield around him, knocking enemies out of the way as Neville fired off spells.

There was Hermione, behind him, aiming stunning spells at the Death Eaters behind him.

There was Luna, on his right, sending off spells in every direction.

"It wasn't Harry," Hermione yelled suddenly. "It's you!"

"What? Kinda busy here, 'Mione –" Neville gave a great gasp as a spell brushed his hair – he shot back with a fury, sending shields and stunners off at lightning speed.

"It's you, we can't wait for Harry!" cried Hermione. "You've got this! You have to do it – for all of us! He's defenceless!"

"Doesn't feel like it!" Neville narrowly dodged a nasty looking enchantment by ducking just in time. "What are you on about?"

"Just get him, get Voldemort!" cried Hermione. "Quickly!"

"She's right, do it quickly!" cried Luna. "Quickly, you don't have much –"

And she was cut short.

There she was, on the ground.

Green faded up from her chest. Her eyes were open, and she looked slightly stunned.

Neville was at her side. In the background he could hear Hermione and Ron yelling at him, to get up, to keep fighting, but it didn't matter, nothing mattered, because Luna was dead, she was dead, she was dead, she was dead, she was dead, she was _dead_ – She couldn't be dead, surely not. He frantically felt for a pulse, but there wasn't one – she was dead, and she had been killed, and Voldemort had done it.

Neville pushed himself to his feet. Rage filled his body; an uncontrollable, incredibly calm, rage.

Ron and Hermione were yelling in his ears.

He raised his wand – and began to fight.

Spell after spell after spell -

And there he was.

Voldemort.

Shooting green spells out of his wand, without consequence, without care – without _remorse_.

Neville shot his spells with great accuracy and with incredible anger.

A great yell came shooting out of his mouth.

This was going to end.

/

Harry was trudging along through the undergrowth. He was just considering asking when on earth they were supposed to arrive at this place they were trying to get to, when, all of a sudden, the trees and bushes opened up –

And they were there.

The Clearing.

This was where he had dropped the Stone, and this was where he had seen his parents.

His mouth opened in a perfect 'O'.

"We made it," said Ginny from behind him. She stepped out into the clearing, and strode out in front of him. Then she turned, in the middle, facing him; her eyes blazing like stars.

"What now?"

In response, Ginny reached into the pocket of her robes and pulled out the Stone. Very carefully, she laid it in the middle of the circle.

In another pocket, she pulled out the Cloak. Down it went, next to the Stone.

And then –

She laid down the wand. It was still glowing from 'lumos', lighting up the circle with its light.

She took a step back.

Harry took his chance.

With a great dive, landing on his stomach, he grasped desperately for the wand – he held it in both hands, and pointed it up at Ginny.

She looked down at him.

She shook her head. "Fine, then. Take the bloody wand. Much good it'll do you."

Harry pushed himself up onto his knees, and pointed the still glowing wand at her, leaves falling out of his hair. He held it in both hands. He found he was shaking.

Ginny shook her head. "What are you trying to accomplish, Harry?"

"What did you bring me here for?"

"To meet Death, I already told you!"

"That sounds ominous."

Ginny threw back her head and laughed. "I suppose it does, Harry Potter." Ignoring the wand he was aiming at her, she gave him a great, great smile and shoved her hands in her pockets. "I suppose it does."

/

Luna's soul is a beautiful pastel yellow.

It is a pastel blue at just the right angle.

It is very rare when I see souls that are purely beautiful.

Luna Lovegood's soul is one of them.

I pick her up quickly.

I am wanted elsewhere.

The Forest calls.

I glide softly away.

/

It all happened very fast –

Neville was face to face with Voldemort.

He was more powerful than Neville had thought possible. Down went spell after spell – carrots were flying through the air as spells uprooted his vege patch. If he had had time, Neville would probably have laughed. He wasn't sure that anything mattered anymore, except for winning.

So he shot spell after spell, and Voldemort's fierce smile grew firmer and firmer as he cast aside stunners with great skill.

And suddenly – it was just Neville and the Dark Lord.

And, as if one, they both yelled "expelliarmus!"

And the magic connected the wands, a great line of blue, and an incredible power pulling them both together. A great heat was surging, and sparks were flying off the wands and into the sky – and a great ball of light grew on the magic, and it was running down the line towards Neville.

Neville gritted his teeth and pushed. He pushed and pushed and pushed. The ball of light slowed down, slowly halting less than a foot close to his wand.

Voldemort's eyes were angry, red slits in his face, and Neville tore his eyes away and looked with all his might at the silver ball of light, which was beginning to slide towards the Dark Lord.

Summoning ever single ounce of magic that he had left in him, he pushed and pushed and pushed – with all his might and will, the magic edged closer to the Dark Lord.

And then – he felt his mother next to his elbow. His father on his other side. Alice, and Frank next to him, their eyes blazing. "Go on," they were saying. "Push."

His Father placed his hand on Neville's back. "You can do it."

"I believe in you," said his mother.

And Neville pushed. And he pushed. And he pushed.

And the ball of light sped up – and it went faster and faster and faster, and suddenly it was at the edge of Voldemort's wand –

And there was a great shriek of light and magic and heat, and both Voldemort and Neville were tossed back into the gardens behind them.

And there was a great explosion of light –

And then there was nothing.

/

Harry pointed The Elder Wand at Ginny; it was shaking slightly, and he forced his hand to be still.

She looked up into the sky. "Well, we're here!" she yelled suddenly, her voice breaking the stillness. Bats flew into the air.

"Shut up, are you crazy?" hissed Harry. "We're in the Forbidden Forest!"

"It's been a long day!" returned Ginny.

"So where's Death then?"

"I don't know!" cried Ginny. "I'm working on it!" she folded her arms with a huff.

Suddenly, she gave a great jolt and fell to her knees.

"Wha – you okay?"

"I …"

She gave a great gasp, and looked down at her hands. They were sifting from freckled to pale; her hair was changing from red to blonde – she gave a great shriek, "No, no, no, no," and clawed at her skin –

Far far away, the Dark Lord had fallen.

/

Neville hid his face inbetween his knees, squeezing both eyes shut.

He couldn't see for a moment, and his ears were ringing. He lifted his fingers to his eyes, checking to see whether they were really open. The smell of smoke stuck in his nostrils.

At last he could make out something – a cluster of people on the other side of his garden; they were a blur, but they were yelling.

There was a great cry.

"He's dead!"

And the Aurors were yelling, and Death Eaters were screaming, both in pain and in horror at the revelation that their Dark Lord was Dead.

And Neville closed his eyes again, and leant back among the remains of his vegetable garden.

Voldemort had picked the wrong child.

It should have been Neville, not Harry.

And Neville smiled to himself amongst the cabbages -

And then he started to weep, as memories flooded back in.


	31. 30 - The End

Ginny was changing. She was turning back into something horrible – Anna, but not Anna. Her hair was white blonde, but her eyes were bright red – and they were nothing but slits. And she was on the ground, slowly pushing herself to her feet.

And Harry pointed the wand desperately, not sure whether to shoot something deathly or not, because this _thing_ was _still_ Ginny, deep deep down.

But the thing was lifting itself up on her arms, and pushing herself to her feet, and then she was up, and she was lifting her eyes and arms to the sky –

And she gave a fierce, guttural, soul-shaking cry that made Harry's heart leap into his throat. He pointed the wand, but couldn't bring himself to shoot.

"What are you?" he cried.

And the thing turned itself towards Harry. The red slits looked at him, and Harry gritted his teeth.

"I am Voldemort," it said; its voice was Voldemort's, that familiar dark hiss. "The horcrux inside Ginny has taken shape."

"Horcrux?" Of course, he should have known…

"Die for the last time, Potter."

"Not on my watch," said Harry. " _Stupefy_."

The creature crossed its arms, and the spell rebounded naturally, as if it was nothing but a fly. Harry shook his head, and sent off half a dozen more stunners. The creature deflected them easily. It stepped closer and closer as Harry desperately shot off every spell he could think of – the creature deflected them, Harry stumbled backwards as he fired spells –

His feet were caught around something. With one quick movement, he bent down and picked up his cloak, still firing spells desperately.

With the other hand he swept the cloak around him and disappeared into thin air.

The Anna-crossed-with-Voldemort continued to deflect the spells, but stopped advancing; its head searched left and right for Harry, clearly confused. Harry kept stumbling backwards, his hand waving his wand, mouthing spells silently, trying desperately to find a spell that would hurt the thing –

Suddenly he tripped backwards, and caught himself, his feet tangled in each other – he gave a cry of alarm, despite himself – and the creature was there in front of him, and Anna's cold hands pushed him backwards, hard, and he was down on his back, his arm behind him, something digging into his flesh. It was the Stone. He tried to grasp it in his fingers, tried to pull it out from under him…

But the creature was on top of him now, the glowing red slits causing shivers to run up and down his spine. The cold hands were pressing into his chest; Harry felt a flash of immense, incredible pain throughout his whole body, and then numbness – his soul was being sucked out of his body.

Through half closed eyes, he could see it leaving him – he struggled with all his might to hold on, but he couldn't, he couldn't –

With one last effort, he pulled out the stone from under him and held it out to his side.

He closed his eyes, and with the last of his strength -

He lifted both invisible arms in the air; the wand in one, the stone in the other.

He didn't know how he knew what to say, but he said it nonetheless.

"Expelliarmus!"

There was a great flash of light, and a huge explosion.

For the first time, the Hallows had been used together.

/

I bend over Ginny's shaking body. But it is not Ginny I am here for – oh no.

Intertwined in her rich red soul is an old, wizened black one.

Her horcrux, given to her unwillingly in the Chamber of Secrets, all those years ago.

I pick up the fragment of Voldemort's soul. It is heavy with the consequences of its actions.

I carry it gently away.

/

A stone lay on the ground. Except it wasn't a stone; it was shattered into broken pieces, black smoke rising out of its ruin.

A wand lay on the ground. Except it wasn't a wand; it was snapped in two, whisps of silver still spluttering out the ends.

A cloak lay on the ground. Except it wasn't a cloak; it was pieces of material, torn desperately into shreds, lying a pile of grey.

Ginny lay on the ground. She was gasping for breath, and tears were soaking out of her eyes. Blood was soaking into the ground beneath her.

Harry was at her side in an instant; his hands shaking desperately. He pulled her shirt up, and there was the wound, seeping blood from her stomach. Grasping at the shreds of material that had used to be his cloak, he pressed it on the wound.

He didn't really know what he was doing, but he was sure that he had read somewhere that you were meant to stop the bleeding; press down hard. Ginny was shaking; the blood had drained from her face and she was as white as a sheet. He pushed her hair out of her face, seized her hand, squeezing it. "Ginny!" he cried. "Can you hear me? He's gone, he's dead, he's dead, it's okay, you can rest now –"

Ginny gasped desperately, and coughed, her broken body seizing up with the effort.

Blood leaked out of the corner of her mouth. Her frightened eyes looked around desperately, not seeing Harry.

Her soul had held on for too long.

Suddenly, Harry saw her eyes lock onto something behind him. They widened, and her mouth upturned into a small smile.

"It's you," she said.

"Pardon?" Harry turned quickly to look behind him, where she was looking – but there was nothing but shadows in the dark night. "Who are you talking to?"

"It's Death."

/

I meet Ginevra Weasley for the third time in a familiar clearing the Forbidden Forest.

Only this time, she is dying.

On the ground next to her – a broken wand, a shattered stone, and a boy, desperately pushing scraps of a torn cloak into her wound.

It is my wand, my stone, my cloak.

"How are you?" I say.

"Never better," she says. Then she bursts into a fit of coughing. Blood trickles down her face.

"Who are you talking to?" cries the boy. "What's going on?"

"Death," says Ginny. "He is here."

Then she looks at me, her eyes desperate. "Please, I brought you… the Hallows… Please take them … Spare us … spare him."

I look at the two of them – the boy, clearly scared out of his mind, clutching desperately onto Ginevra's hand and brushing her hair, willing her to live. Ginevra, dying, pleading for the boy's life.

Humans never cease to surprise me.

I bow my head, and glide over to the Hallows. I pick them up. Hold them in my hands.

They are my Hallows indeed.

"They were never meant to be used together," I say. "Their individual power destroys each other. It does not work."

"I noticed," says Ginny.

"I shall take the Hallows," I say.

At last, they are mine again. At last, they shall not be tampered with by humans – at last, I do not have to pick up after my mess, at last I don't have to always have them edging at the corner of my mind. Perhaps it is for the best that they are broken; never again can they be used to create dead things. Never again will humans use them for their own ill gain –

"Well?"

Ginny has interrupted my thoughts. I gaze down at her; at this dying human who insists on bargaining with the last of her strength.

I do not want to do this, but rules are rules. Bargains are bargains.

My name is Death, and I do not break promises.

I bow my head.

"I will spare your lives. You have kept your end of the bargain, and I will keep mine, Ginevra Weasley."

Ginny closes her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispers.

It is time for me to leave; I can feel it. Other souls are calling me. But, strangely, I don't want to leave. It is … strangely peaceful here. Here, in the middle of the Forbidden Forest.

I hover. "I hope you have a good evening, Ginevra."

She coughs, and raises her eyebrows at me. "It's only up from here."

I can't help it – I smile. I will miss this soul – this fiery soul, and our scattered meetings. There is no one on this earth quite like Ginevra Weasley.

"I suppose I will say my farewell. I wish you a speedy recovery."

I turn. I stride towards the edge of the clearing. In the shadows, I pull out the List.

It's time to go to the next human, and –

Oh dear.

I should have guessed.

How – _humanlike_ of me.

I turn, back towards the clearing.

The List calls, and I cannot stand breaking the rules.

/

"He's gone," said Ginny, her eyes squeezing tight – and her body racked with another fit of coughing.

Harry glanced behind him again – there was nothing there. Fear clutched at his soul. He wished he had paid more attention during the healing sessions at Auror training.

He gently pushed the hair out of her face, tucking it softly behind her ears. "It's going to be okay, Ginny. Whatever you saw – it's not there anymore. It's gone."

Ginny was shaking, coughing. The blood was trailing out of her mouth.

"Come on Gin, hang in there for me. Please, Gin. Please."

Three more coughs, and a great shudder - and suddenly, she stopped coughing – and her eyes found Harry's desperate ones.

"thank you," she whispered, so low that Harry had to lean in close to hear her.

"You don't have to say thank you," sobbed Harry. Tears streamed down his face. It wasn't fair. "You never have to say thank you. I didn't do anything."

"Look after them all." Ginny's voice shook with effort.

"I won't let you do that, I won't let you do that. Come on Gin. Hold in there. The people – they're coming, they'll be here soon."

"Harry." And Ginny's eyes were open, and she looked into his eyes, desperately holding on. The fierce fire and the blazing look was gone.

There was only a small, frightened girl.

And then – she stopped.

"No," said Harry. "No, no, no, no." And he felt frantically for a pulse, but there wasn't one; he pushed the hair out of her face and desperately shook her shoulders, but she fell heavily into his arms.

The fire had gone out.

She couldn't be dead, she couldn't be dead, she wasn't dead, she wasn't dead, surely she wasn't dead, she couldn't be dead –

Harry leant down and gently kissed Ginny's lips.

They were still warm.

/

The List doesn't give the cause of death. It makes my job interesting; getting to guess what the problem was.

For Ginny – maybe it is her fatal wound, draining her of blood. Maybe it is a broken heart, as she learned how she had killed her friends and fought her family. Maybe it is Voldemort's soul, intertwined with hers for so long, draining her of the little fight she had left.

Either way, her Time has come.

Her soul is full of fire – but it is small. It is oh so small.

It is incredibly strong, but it is small.

I pick her up – cradle her gently in my arms.

What a wonderful soul.

I carry her softly away.

/

Harry got up slowly. His legs were surprising solid. They shouldn't be, he thought vaguely.

Moonlight danced on the edges of his shoulders. He turned away from Ginny's corpse, and looked up at the sky; the moon was a glowing circle in the black.

A star shot across the sky, leaving sparks in its wake. Harry closed his eyes and made a wish.

 _Please can morning come_.

Because maybe when morning came, this would all be over. Maybe all of this would be lost in the blackness of the night.

He opened his eyes –

And nothing had changed.

Harry smiled a little; despair filled his bones.

And he turned homewards, and began to walk.

/

 _Well, that's it guys! Thanks so much for all your love and support on this long journey. I started planning this story way back in may 2017, and finished it just a few days before 2019 began. It's been by far the most challenging, angsty, ridiculous thing I've ever created, but it's been an adventure – and I'm so so blessed by all of the love you've shown it 3_

 _Thanks for dealing with my sporadic uploads and for letting me get out all that angst! I love you all!_

 _Blessings, cassie xx_


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